


Beginnings

by luinmiria



Series: Silent Princess [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Action & Romance, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Minor Original Character(s), POV Alternating, Pre-Calamity (Legend of Zelda), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 22,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27702206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luinmiria/pseuds/luinmiria
Summary: Between and inside the memories (Pre-Calamity); digging into the two main characters.These guys are sweet and let's enjoy it.(Planning future installments dealing with possible BOTW2 plotlines)"It had only been a second, less than that, but Zelda felt as if she was waking from a haze when the soldier turned around and kneeled in front of her. For a moment, her heart lurched, and the world was confined to two piercing eyes, blue as the sky, and an inviting hand extending toward her. Then she saw the sword on his back.Oh."
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Series: Silent Princess [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025989
Comments: 4
Kudos: 67





	1. Mourning

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> First fanfic here, so any feedback is appreciated!
> 
> I'll do my best to comply with canon throughout, but my spatial awareness isn't perfect, so there might be some mistakes there. Feel free to point them out.
> 
> Enjoy!

It wasn’t often that she remembered her father’s smile.

She didn’t think of how it used to set the room aglow when her impish voice produced a litany of hard-won facts about the lifespan of a hot-footed frog or the reproductive cycle of a hearty radish. She didn’t hear his laughter booming when she refused to go to harp lessons, or his voice as he towered over her, whispering in her ear when she spoke with a Zora delegation. She refused to recall how secure she’d felt, relying on that solid, rasping counsel.

She certainly didn’t think of the day a young boy drew a sword from stone, and the weight of the world settled in those roaring eyes.

But she did today.

Here, with the father she’d once loved standing straight and tall, the length of the room between them, she took a moment to mourn.

“Zelda,” his voice warned. “I know this isn’t what you wanted, but you will have to live with it. You’ve been lucky to be blessed with independence this long.”

She ducked her eyes beneath his hard gaze. “Yes, father.”

“The boy is your partner in this life, and it was only a matter of time before you would be thrown together. Your reckless experiments have only forced my hand sooner.”

She clenched her jaw, and said nothing.

“I’d take this as a sign, Zelda. Fraternizing with those machines can do you no good. If not for _him_ , your frivolous behavior would’ve thrown our world into _chaos_.”

His hand slapped his desk for emphasis. She jumped.

Tension grew in his voice, as if he suppressed a deep anger.

“Whether or not you wish it, the fate of this kingdom rests solely on you. None of us can succeed until you decide _you_ wish to.”

She looked up then, straight into his fiery gaze, into the glare he’d always reserved for cruel tutors and bullying nobility. She was its target, now.

She stared into the depths of her father’s ire and felt coolness return. She nodded.

“I would like to pray before the ceremony. If that would be alright with you, father.”

He nodded back.

She turned, and very regally fled.

-

She’d grown to hate prayer, and the ache in her joints from the long, still hours. She longed to move, talk, see and think. But that wasn’t what prayer was for. Prayer was about waiting.

She’d never been good at that.

Now though, she didn’t sigh or wonder or hope. She simply savored this last breath of true solitude. She thought of her mother, and how prayer never felt lonesome crouching beside her. She’d hoped then that one day she would feel “the glow” her mother lovingly described. And sometimes, sitting there, quiet and secure, with parents and a life she loved, she swore she felt a stirring inside her.

It amounted to nothing of course, but she took a moment to recall the simplicity of that life. Then she stood, and decided to live the mess in front of her.

As she approached the audience hall, she stopped at the doorway. She took a deep breath, and forced a slight smile to her face before walking, stiff and erect, straight into the towering chamber.

The throne room was as large and daunting as could be expected of royalty, and she used the atmosphere to carry her to her place beside her father.

She passed _him_ , of course, but she refused to look aside from her destination, and felt the flutter of resentment in her chest. She nursed it, recalling the frank admiration in her father’s voice whenever they discussed “the boy.” As she turned though, his icy eyes caught hers, and they brought her back to earlier that day.

To the moment she’d first seen them.

She’d been taking her usual break from prayer to make a routine inspection of the guardians.

“Have you found any way of fully controlling them?”

Purah shook her head, biting her lip thoughtfully. “Not as of yet. They behave well: they follow the orders of the captain in charge, and seem to understand what the regiment expects them to do, but we’ve found no sign of any control matrix we can utilize.”

Robbie nodded, affecting a dramatic air as he spoke. “Though it’s possible that we may… never need to.”

Zelda smiled fondly.

“How do you mean?”

“Well,” he drawled, scratching his chin, “if they follow orders willingly, and behave intelligently, perhaps there’s no need for that kind of control. Perhaps we can just… let them live.”

She frowned at this.

“While I don’t have a problem with the idea in principle—the prospect of sentient guardians opens up a whole new line of inquiry which I’m sure you both will enthusiastically pursue—I do think we should have a bit better understanding of their battle mechanics before sending them out with our soldiers. Have you thought of trying a sparring match with them?”

Purah and Robbie exchanged an anxious look, then gazed apprehensively at the guardian watching them beside the castle battlement.

“Frankly Princess, it wouldn’t be much of a match, and I’d be hard-pressed to find a soldier willing to take that on,” Purah’s mouth turned up mischievously. “Though, if you’d like to speak to your father about increasing our budget, that could do _wonders_ for…”

Zelda scoffed in mock annoyance and waved her friend off. “Save it Purah, I’ve already heard—”

Suddenly, a red dot appeared on her chest, and before she could process what was happening, a soldier jumped in front of her, pushing her to the ground just as a blue beam shot through the air. With a grunt and a lightning quick parry, the soldier deflected it, sending the piercing light hurtling back toward the guardian. With a sizzle, the beam collided with the guardian’s glowing eye, and the machine exploded in a blast of white light. The world around them stilled for a moment.

It had only been a second, less than that, but Zelda felt as if she was waking from a haze when the soldier turned around and kneeled in front of her. For a moment, her heart lurched, and the world was confined to two piercing eyes, blue as the sky, and an inviting hand extending toward her. Then she saw the sword on his back.

_Oh._

Her chest returned to normal, and the elation she’d felt only a moment earlier dropped into a frustrated, bitter sizzle. She didn’t take his hand.

By that afternoon, the castle was awhirl with gossip about the brave knight, the _skilled_ knight, and what might’ve happened had he not the speed of the swiftest horse and the strength of…

It was another thing for her bitterness to hold firm to.

She recalled it now, and resentment seethed inside her. A trained diplomat, there was still a limit to what Zelda could repress, and she felt whispers of bitterness leak into the lines of her face.

She watched as her father recited the knight’s oath, asking if he pledged to devote himself to her, protect her, give his life for her if need be. She watched as he nodded, not a single word from his lips or feeling across his countenance, and she bit her tongue, hard, as her father smiled at the kneeling hero. It wasn’t enough for him to fulfill his destiny so easily, not enough to steal the hearts of her people. He had to take her father’s pride, too.

She didn’t have the energy for hatred anymore, and suddenly the world around her felt gray and lifeless.

She didn’t look at him as he trailed behind her, and dismissed him at her chamber door. She walked inside, and opened her botany journal. It was the flower that died in her care yesterday morning. She’d pressed it into the book that afternoon.

The label read _Silent Princess_.


	2. New Post

It was just before dawn when Link stirred. He sat up, letting himself feel the aches of wakefulness for a moment, before stepping silently past the sleeping guardsmen and out into the chill morning air.

He drew the master sword from his back, twirling it in his hand, loosening, before settling into his practice routine. The air whistled and hummed with the sound of the blade, his strikes firm and precise against the weight of the metal in his hands and the comfortable strain in his arms. The night was quiet and still, and each movement brought his mind deeper into that stillness, the whole of the world confined to each swing, each placement of his feet and twist of his torso. For just a moment, he could leave behind his frustrations and the apprehension of his changing life.

He lost himself in the exertion, and when dawn came, he nearly walked back to the barracks to prepare for his morning shift. Forgetting, for an instant, that the routine he’d relied on for years was at an end. The reprieve didn’t last long.

His father exited the barracks with “Dad” on his face instead of “Captain of the Guard,” bringing Link crashing back to reality.

His life was changing again today. Good thing it never seemed to stop.

They met at the entrance, halting when they stood a few feet apart, and there were several moments of awkward silence as Arn struggled to find words. If he’d been a different 17-year-old, or younger, he might’ve smirked. _Runs in the family, I guess._

The esteemed Captain of the Guard opened his mouth, and closed it—more than once—before managing to speak to his son.

“So… new assignment, huh?”

Link nodded.

He nodded. “Uh, lots of pressure though. You know, seeing to the Princess personally.”

Link half-shrugged.

He seemed to relax at the gesture, giving his son a fond smile. “Though that’s never really been a problem for you, has it?” He sighed and shook his head. “Really though, boy. What’s going through your head with all this?”

Link hesitated, the habit of silence hard to break, and felt the familiar tingling of eyes on his back, waiting to catch his vulnerability, waiting for him to make a mistake.

He steeled himself. The eyes weren’t real. And this was his father. He took a breath.

“I’ve just pledged my life to her, Father. And…”

He floundered, unable to give words to the tangle inside him, and looked up, pleading with his father to understand.

Arn nodded. “…and you don’t know where it’ll take you. Or whether it was even worth it.”

Link winced, but nodded.

His father sighed. “I’m not gonna lie to you, boy. Being a knight, and being the Princess’s “knight escort” are more different than the titles would lead you to believe.” He looked at him, his gaze honest and direct. “You’re her body guard. Plain and simple.”

Link nodded, his heart sinking just a bit.

“Now, from what I’ve heard, the Princess is an adventurous type, so your job will be… _interesting_ to say the least, and you’ll likely be able to keep traveling. But none of that will be in your control. If she realizes today that she was destined to be a devout hermit, that applies to you too.”

Link nodded.

He sighed. “But that being said—she’s a daughter of Hylia. When you protect her, you protect the land, too.” His gaze firmed with pride. “Now Rhoam’s a good king. But Hylians are loyal to their _Queen_. She’s what holds this nation together, and not only do you get to defend her, you get to stand beside her, every step of the way. There’s no greater honor than that.”

Link stood a bit straighter.

Arn’s smile grew soft. “And, believe it or not, eventually you’ll learn to like her. And she’ll learn to like you. It’s hard to spend 12 hours a day in someone’s company without learning to appreciate _something_ about them.”

Link nodded, then hesitated a moment. “So… you were friends with the Queen, then? The last Queen?”

Arn laughed. “That I was, boy. That I was. That’s one of the nice things about this job. New friendship. And one with infinitely better advice than those you’ll find in the guardhouse.”

Link smiled, and nodded, feeling a bit relieved after his dad’s assessment. It wouldn’t be awful, then. That was good enough for now.

“Thanks.” He hesitated. “Dad.”

He smiled softly. “Anytime, son. Anytime.” He turned toward the gate, ready to replace the night commander, but stopped, turning his head toward his son.

“You know, you don’t always have to shoulder the world alone. I know I’m your Captain, and that I’m not the most… well. That I’m not like your mother.”

Pain flashed in both of their eyes for a moment.

“But still. You can talk to me.” If Link hadn’t known better, he’d say his father’s eyes were almost pleading.

Link knew what he needed to hear. So he smiled, and nodded.

His father nodded back, then continued to his post.

Link sighed. He almost felt regret as he watched his dad walk away, but he didn’t have time to reconsider that relationship. It existed, and it was good. For now it didn’t need to be more. He’d settled the turmoil over his assignment, and now he needed to move on.

He started to walk towards the barracks again, when he realized he wasn’t sure what to do now. He didn’t know the Princess’s schedule yet, but he was nearly positive she didn’t wake up at dawn. He considered, and decided he’d rather be early than yelled at. Or dismissed. Or slapped. He sighed. He really wasn’t sure how she’d respond to _anything_.

He looked at the spire towering above him, and took a moment to feel the uncertainty. To recognize, fully, that his life was new again, and wonder who he might be by the end of it and what he might face.

Then he straightened his shoulders, and started walking.


	3. Meetings

Zelda shot up in her seat, and sniffled. She wasn’t in her room.

She considered her surroundings briefly before realizing she was in her study. She tried to remember how she’d gotten there, and suddenly her eyes caught the open page on her desk.

_Oh, right. Another late-night, hopeless endeavor._

She smirked at her own joke—there was really no one else to poke fun at her father—and stretched for a moment, before looking over her notes to refresh the knowledge. She’d been looking over her procedure for the growth of the last Silent Princess, and cross-referencing it with previous attempts to see what she could try next. She knew botanists believed it couldn’t be cultivated domestically. She didn’t care.

She quickly became sucked into the work, and it wasn’t until her back started to ache that she took the time to look out the window. It was very clearly morning, and it had probably been hours since she woke. She moved toward it, and looked out. She could just barely see the forest beyond the town. She gazed at it longingly before resigning herself to the day.

She opened the door, and yelped in shock. _He_ was standing right outside.

He turned toward her, and something flashed in his eyes that might’ve been amusement. She narrowed hers.

“How did you know I’d be here?”

He shrugged.

_Right. He doesn’t speak. Wonderful._

“I’ll take that to mean it was a lucky guess. Though you should really learn to communicate more effectively. I don’t want to have to assume what you’re doing, and I don’t think you want me to either.”

He looked at her for a second, as if taking her measure, and then nodded.

She stared at him for a moment, huffed in frustration, and continued out onto the battlement. If she had to talk all day to maintain civility, she would. Making time in this way had been one of her first lessons in diplomacy, and she’d excelled. An image of her mother flashed before her.

_A soft smile. “A scholar’s mind is never quiet.”_

She took an unsteady breath and increased her pace. She could hear his stride match hers from behind.

“I’ll attend to my morning prayers, which should take several hours. After that, I will head to the Royal Greenhouse to oversee some of their projects before heading to the library in search of any more mentions I can find of the Guardians and how the Ancients may have controlled them. Tomorrow though, the other champions will arrive to be officially sworn in by my father. Including you. I’d take time to consider that event and how you will present yourself.”

She waited. He said nothing.

She gritted her teeth. “I’ll take that for an affirmative.” When they reached a small pond with a goddess statue at its center, she turned to face him. He stopped several paces in front of her, expressionless.

“I will pray here. You may attend to me if you wish, though I assure you it is not necessary.”

He nodded, and turned to face away from her, drawing his sword and placing it firmly in the grass. Her eyes snagged on the distinctive hilt and the soft glow of the blade, and a fire raged in her stomach, guilt and outrage nearly drowning her senses.

_So this is why you assigned him to me. I hardly need another reminder, Father._

She turned away from him, her throat tight, and kneeled in front of the pond. No one who saw her would’ve known the birds were singing that morning.


	4. First Day

Link’s first day as knight escort was among the least eventful in his career.

Link had always been one of the better swordsmen at Hyrule Castle, and as such, he typically got more interesting assignments. He got to beat back raids; he trained new recruits, and sparred with the veteran members. Even on typical “stand and watch” shifts, he’d rarely been alone, and someone’s pockets had always rattled with smuggled dice.

Now he just waited, standing at the ready until the Princess moved on from a task. And there was no telling how long one would last, or how much there’d be for him to observe.

For how talkative she was, the Princess did a tremendous amount of silent work. Though “silent” wasn’t entirely accurate. She always seemed to mumble under her breath as she read and worked.

He wondered whether she knew that.

Frankly, she’d been the most entertaining part of the day. He knew she disliked him, and he wasn’t sure what to make of her, but she was certainly… _distinct_. She never left any doubt about how she felt and why, exclaiming at the placement of cool saffinas inside the greenhouse and scolding workers who had likely been there for decades. She never seemed to anger them, though. Her interest was well-received, and her rebukes were phrased as compliments (she couldn’t _believe_ that wonderful gardeners such as _they_ could make such a mistake).

When they walked to a new part of the castle, she kept up a constant monologue, quickly giving up on his response. She actually seemed to think _out loud_ , which was as odd and incomprehensible as it was intriguing.

She was at home here, laughing with familiar tutors and courtiers, sympathizing with laundry maids and conversing with librarians. Emotions came and went on her face like storms in Faron, changing and morphing with every new sentence and sight, and he wondered at how someone could live so turbulently.

It was nearly time for dinner in the great hall, and she was still poring over the tomes that lay scattered across the table, lips unconsciously mouthing the words in front of her. By the look of that pile, a passerby might reasonably assume she planned on bringing the library down with her.

He didn’t think it was his job to pull her out of her trance, and he was rather unsure what her response would be to that kind of interruption. She clearly seemed to be enjoying herself. But if they both missed dinner because he just stood there…

Luckily he didn’t need to worry about it.

A Sheikah bard entered from behind one of the other shelves, and seemed to light up at the sight of the Princess. He strode toward her and sat himself down at her table, smiling brightly and remarking briefly on the work. His whole body tilted toward her, and suddenly the turn of his smile was all too familiar to Link. He’d lived among guardsmen long enough to recognize _those_ signs.

Unfortunately for the bard, while the Princess laughed with genuine mirth at his remarks, her posture hardly changed at all, and she kept glancing longingly back at her books.

He almost smirked. It appeared perception wasn’t among the Princess’s strengths.

Fortunately for his stomach, while the Sheikah failed to capture the interest he may have desired, he did successfully convince the Princess to head to the Great Hall, and Link felt like he could’ve leaped with joy.

A slight smile touched his lips.


	5. Silent Knight

Prayer was a time for quiet reflection. A time for Zelda to set aside her worries, her passions, her position, and humbly ask the favor of the goddess. Today, however, pressure was inescapable.

Today, the Champions arrived to be formally recognized by the King of Hyrule, and she would be proclaimed their leader. It was the first formal ceremony the crown had held in months, and she felt the weight of her position in each set of eyes which passed through the hallways and examined her during her prayers. Each courtier, each scullery maid seemed to weigh her against some internal scale, determining her regality within the confines of each of their minds. Their casual greetings were withheld, and the true nature of her role was starkly apparent.

No matter how well she conversed and how often she visited, she would always be royalty, not the activist or statesman she thought herself to be. She had two real roles in their eyes: goddess, or punching bag. She could never discern which they’d decided upon.

She hadn’t thought it possible, but even _his_ eyes seemed to weigh more heavily than usual. Two days they’d been in each other’s company, and still she had no real way of determining how he felt about _anything_ , let alone his position.

Or her. She pushed back the wave of frustration which nearly overtook her. She didn’t know why, but his silent competency had begun to make her feel… inadequate. Almost. She’d sent him on useless errands, her father had held discussions with him, she’d made him wait outside of doorways more often than she could count, and each time, he simply nodded, executed the task readily and efficiently, and returned in time for the next. He never smirked. He never complained.

It was positively irksome.

Even more frustrating was his inconceivable popularity. She’d worked for her position among her people, and even then, when push came to shove, she was a figure, someone to hold aloft or criticize over the family table, not someone to discuss weather and family or _truly_ laugh with. He never said a word, and yet it seemingly took no time to love him. Kitchen staff slipped him pastries, soldiers clapped him on the shoulder, even little kids flocked to him.

That had actually been the only time she’d seen him smile.

She’d left a shop with her new notebook, only to find him surrounded by a throng of children, intent on knocking him down. He’d swayed for an instant, and a small smile had flashed across his face just before vanishing, as if it had never been.

The fact that he was capable of emotion had been shocking to say the least.

Now she couldn’t help but wonder when he would’ve smiled, if given the opportunity, and why he didn’t. If he hated his position, why did she only find indifference on his face? When she stood up, a failure, after a long evening of prayer, she never looked back into the fire of disapproval she so often saw in the gaze of her father, but neither was his determination to maintain a stellar job performance an affirmation of hers. Each hour of silent success only proved more frustrating.

Though, just as often, she found herself aghast at her own interest in his approval. Sure, her father loved him. Sure, he was a successful hero. None of those things made him an expert on her power or capabilities. In fact, she often reflected, what _was_ he an expert on? Physical strength? Maintaining an empty mind? Though it was difficult, she knew it was improper to reflect on these thoughts out loud, and her musings were often angrily scrawled only to be tossed into a fire upon rereading.

She continued to pray, but sensing the direction of her thoughts wouldn’t be swayed, she simply asked for strength in the ceremony to come. She wanted to walk past her people with confidence and surety. She wanted to meet her father’s stare with the steady gaze of his successor.

She stood, straightening under the imaginary weight, and turned to face her knight. She looked into his eyes, but the depth which lurked beneath his sharp gaze revealed nothing to her. She refused to be disappointed.

“It is time for us to attend the ceremony. I wish you luck.” Her words were considerate, but her voice lacked the warmth of true kindness. Clipped civility was the best she could muster.

He nodded, and she knew he understood.

There was no time to sigh over the futility of their interactions, and for a moment, she was almost glad he had nothing to say. She walked past him without looking back.


	6. Ceremony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains Memory 5 from Champion's Ballad (dialogue from Rhoam is not my own there)

Link stood in front of the King, the other Champions by his side. He’d interacted with all of them before, but never had the air felt so… charged.

He’d felt this way only once before. He’d been twelve years old, and, after a teasing dare from his bunkmates, he’d drawn the Master Sword from its pedestal.

When he took the hilt in his hands, his face had been bright with a teasing smile. But as he started to pull, pain rocketed through his whole body, as if an earthquake threatened to shatter his spine. He’d felt a deep hum rise from the earth, and the force of it threatened to swallow him inside. He might’ve let go then, but somewhere beneath the pain and the shaking, he’d felt a deeper dare, a snarling within the humming current, as if a god rose from the ground to challenge any with the audacity to claim mastery over it. In the face of direct onslaught, he’d felt determination steel him. The feeling was familiar, though he never knew where it came from. All he knew was that just when the world started to crack, just as he wondered whether _this_ would be the moment he broke, there it would appear, hard in his stomach and clear in his mind.

The moment he’d taken it in his hand, he’d held it aloft, his body shaking, reveling in the victory. Then the feeling left him, and as he let the tip drop back to the earth, he found himself in a different world. He hadn’t known what he was doing when he grabbed that sword, but when he’d looked into his friends’ eyes, dark and still in the misty forest, he’d known what lay ahead of him. The weight of it covered him like a shroud.

It never left.

Now, in that chamber resplendent with flags and soldiers, he looked into the King’s eyes, and felt an echo of that energized stillness return. He could’ve sworn he heard a hum emanating from his back.

The King’s eyes moved to his daughter.

“Zelda. I trust you with the task only a daughter of the royal family can fulfill. Lead our Champions, Princess. And together, protect our kingdom from the threat of Calamity Ganon.”

Link’s eyes moved to her, and he saw her stand a bit straighter as steel entered her gaze. In that moment, he knew she felt it too. For the first time since he met her, he felt his heart go out to the Princess.

There was a chorus of explosions as fireworks were set off in the courtyard. The King smiled, and nodded their dismissal.

Link walked over to the window, and peered out at the streamers, shouting and music drifting up on the wind. A soft cough sounded behind him.

He turned, and found Mipha, who stood a few feet away with a shy smile on her face. She waved.

His heart lifted at the sight of his old friend, and a slight smile touched his lips. He waved back.

She stepped a bit closer and gestured to the Princess.

“So. How’s the new assignment going?”

He looked over and saw the Princess speaking with Revali. And glancing over at him.

_Great._

He shot Mipha a look, and she chuckled.

“Well, I’ve heard the Princess can be… opinionated. With any luck, that opinion will shift in your favor.”

His grimace told her what he thought of _that_ idea, but before she could respond, the sound of lumbering feet interrupted them.

“LINK!”

Luckily, he saw the sprinting goron coming, and was able to prepare for the feeling of rock colliding with his spinal cord.

Mostly.

Mipha winced in sympathy.

“Ah, it’s been too long, Brother! It’s too bad we’re not meeting again on Death Mountain, or I could show you the fantastic new rock roast I’ve discovered!”

Daruk’s grin was radiant, and Link felt a bit of the goron’s enthusiasm infect him. He smiled, and shrugged in response, and Daruk let out a roar of laughter before slapping him in the back again.

“Now there he is! I will say, I’ve missed your charming silences, Link.”

Link’s smile was his own then, and he was content to let it linger while he listened to Daruk monologue about the intervening months on Death Mountain.

-

Unfortunately, as wonderful as the reprieve from ceremony was, there was only so long Daruk could boast of Link’s bravery to Urbosa before he felt the need for more official recognition.

“Hold on, isn’t there usually a special ceremony for the Hero after he claims the sword?”

Link stiffened, and shrugged.

Urbosa smiled at him a bit wickedly, and held her chin in mock consideration. “Hm… I believe you’re right, Daruk. The Chosen Hero and the Sword that Seals the Darkness have a special relationship that is usually commemorated by Hylia reborn. Isn’t that right, Zelda?”

The Princess turned from her conversation with Revali, a bit confused, before managing to put the conversation together. She avoided taking in the spectacle surrounding Link, instead answering Urbosa directly.

“The procedure of such a ceremony certainly exists, but I don’t recall any mention of it actually taking place.”

“Well, I’m in the mood to celebrate our histories today. And Goddess knows we won’t have another chance during the next, what, ten thousand years? I say we do it! Little Link here deserves it.” Daruk slapped his hands together in emphasis.

Revali rolled his eyes. “I _hardly_ think the Princess—”

“Fine.” The Princess’s eyes were cold. “We’ll head down in a few minutes. Just allow me to review the words.”

Revali glanced at her in surprise, but she didn’t meet his gaze. She looked straight into Link, and there was more resentment in her eyes than he’d known existed between them. It shook him. She turned, and walked out of the hall.

Revali shook his head, giving up, and promptly left the chamber. Mipha glanced at Link in surprise, while Daruk remarked that the ceremony must have exhausted the Princess. Urbosa merely stared after her retreating form, deep in thought.

Link noticed all this peripherally, taking a moment to try and comprehend what he’d just learned. He went over all of his interactions with the Princess, but couldn’t find any real problems with his behavior. He was utterly baffled.

_Why does it matter? Not everyone has to like you._

He shook himself, settling into this new reality. He didn’t understand it, and he probably wouldn’t. But he would certainly have to accept it.

Somehow, in two days, the Princess had figured out how to hate him.


	7. The Chosen Hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my interpretation of Memory 1 from the main game, setting and dialogue aren't mine

Zelda recited the words, and felt bitterness and guilt rip through her with every phrase.

“Hero of Hyrule, chosen by the sword that seals the darkness… You have shown unflinching bravery and skill in the face of darkness and adversity. And have proven yourself worthy of the blessings of the Goddess Hylia.”

_Maybe I should pick up a sword._

She tried to force energy into her voice, but it was all she could do to continue speaking. The words burned in her throat, and they would’ve been difficult on any day, let alone _another_ one full of Chosen Hero appreciation.

Even Urbosa had looked impressed with him.

She heard the Champions start to mutter behind the kneeling knight, but she couldn’t make out their words, so she continued, speaking blandly in the hope that detaching from the ceremony would lessen its sting.

At least Revali hadn’t taken to the Hero. He’d been the first person she met who’d express even a single negative opinion of him, and she barely restrained herself from letting loose her own torrent of criticism. She’d had to content herself with widened eyes and barely perceptible nods to encourage him that she shared his appraisal of the knight.

While she’d initially recognized his martial prowess, the more she considered it, the more she realized how simple obtaining that prowess would’ve been. Sure, it would take practice. But what were sword drills compared with hours of intense study, or diplomacy crash courses where her father had simply handed her a trade deal to enforce? How did the mastery of a single weapon compare with education in medicine, history, languages, poetry, music and economics, let alone her independent mastery of guardian research? Why did _he_ deserve such praise?

_Why did he deserve the power of a Goddess with clear and attainable demands?_

She held in a frustrated sigh, and finished the ceremony. Just as she was about to exit the courtyard, he looked up at her, the ice in his eyes still and hard.

They’d been still before, but this wasn’t the stillness of a pond, or the observant quiet of an owl in the night. His eyes were closed to her. Whatever depth or hint of emotion she’d seen before was locked behind walls as blue and impenetrable as the sky.

_Had he been open to me before?_

Somehow her mood sank deeper, and she was shocked at the flash of regret she felt. But she dismissed it.

She’d known he must hate her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, from here, I'm gonna start making some time jumps. Zelda's checking up on the divine beasts, but nothing terribly eventful happens in my mind between this chapter and the next besides some uncomfortable journeying. I'll keep putting notes at the beginning to help keep pace with the story.
> 
> (Also, Zelda's first two journal entries can be read now, if you want to augment the story a little bit. The first is around the time of the first chapter, and the second takes place just before the next)


	8. Tensions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, like I said, Zelda's 2nd journal entry was written a little before this chapter
> 
> (Also, just remembered, the first chapter in the series draws off of the 6th entry in Daruk's Training Journal)

“ _Must_ you stand three paces behind me at all times?” The Princess’s eyes flashed.

He said nothing.

She shook her head, turned and continued walking.

He followed her.

“You know, I often traversed these areas alone before you were tasked with my protection. We are nearing Goron City, there is a battalion of guards behind us, and I know you can arrive before me. There is no need to slow your pace.”

He kept walking.

She spoke quieter, but the rage in her voice simmered. “Would you _deign_ to speak to your Princess?”

He held his tongue.

She sighed then, and turned around again.

He stopped.

For a moment, the anger dimmed in her eyes. “Look, neither of us want to be where we are. I know you probably think it’s your duty to follow me, but I _assure_ you, I will be safe without your presence. And both of us will likely be happier for it.”

She waited for him to respond.

She could decide to hate him. And he could decide not to speak.

So he didn’t.

“Ugh!” She stormed ahead of him, and he sighed.

But neither of them could decide whether he followed.

He increased his pace.

-

They made it to Goron City, and were given a warm welcome by the waiting gorons. He sighed with relief as some of the miners discussed their operations with him on the way to see Daruk. It was nice to have friendly company after weeks of tense travel with the Princess.

He could almost see her watching them out of the corner of her eye. One of the gorons escorting them was reciting the features of Goron City to her as if she’d never visited. Clearly, he took great pride in the job. And clearly, she would rather discuss the details of mining.

Selfishly, he was glad for the respite, and a guilty part of him hoped she wouldn’t insert herself into the conversation. They’d already be spending the entirety of the next day in the Divine Beast with Daruk, and _she’d_ said she wanted a break…

He stopped his tired mental tirade before he got too far. It was better not to think about it.

They both made it to dinner with Daruk in a bit of a haze. Fortunately he’d always been good at maintaining his own conversation.

The Princess made several casual remarks, but overall, she was surprisingly quiet. Her hostile outburst on the mountain seemed a little less offensive in light of her obvious fatigue, and he might’ve smiled at her multiple clumsy attempts to eat rock roast had they not been on “no-smiling” terms.

Their energy restored in the morning, she’d decided to ignore him (which he found infinitely preferable to scolding), and he’d decided he could protect her from a slightly larger distance.

What a lovely pair they made.

He had the feeling that Daruk was aware of the situation, and was simply too polite to make mention of it. Link was aware of the alternatively concerned and frustrated glances he sent their way in between monologues.

When they reached the Divine Beast, however, the Goron Chief beside him visibly shrunk. Link looked at the massive warrior in shock. He’d heard that Daruk had trouble piloting Vah Rhudania, but clearly the endeavor had substantially affected the goron’s confidence. Suddenly he knew this would be a delicate situation to manage.

While the Princess usually handled diplomatic situations with grace and poise he couldn’t hope to match, she tended to let loose in her academic endeavors, and today was no exception. In her excitement, she failed to notice Daruk struggling to keep up, and whirled among the consoles without a care in the world.

“I know you complained about the Divine Beast’s operation, but Vah Rhudania seems to be functioning optimally! Is there some customization of her controls which would make things easier for you? Maybe the control panels were designed for easy Sheikah access. I’ll take a look to see what I can change for you. If I could find a way to extend this rod out a bit, I might be able to widen the distance between each part of the control matrix, making it easier for you to access. Would that fix the problem? Or are you looking for changes within the matrix itself? Because I could…”

She’d lost him completely, and the more she spoke the less confident he seemed to be. Link knew with deadly certainty that this would end badly. Gorons never dealt with insecurity well. He frantically scrambled through his memories of Daruk for a solution, and nearly laughed out loud at his half-brained plan. He knew his friend though, and it would work.

He tried to find a way to insert himself into the conversation, but Daruk was distracted and the Princess was on a roll.

_Doesn’t matter. Never been that great at conversation anyway_.

Deciding it was time to take action, he walked into the middle of their conversation, and activated the Divine Beast. Daruk stared at him, but he chose to meet the Princess’s gaze.

_Time to go_. He hoped she understood.

He grabbed her hand, and walked them out just as the Divine Beast started to move up the mountain on its own. As Daruk tried to follow them out, he turned, and shoved as hard as he could. The unsuspecting goron fell into the slowly tilting beast.

The distance between them and the ground was steadily increasing, and, deciding not to worry about the potential consequences of injured princesses, he grabbed her hand tighter, and jumped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was based on Daruk's 7th entry, if you're keeping track


	9. Confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No time jump here; Zelda's just mad

Zelda coughed as her back hit the ground. Luckily, she’d had the presence of mind to roll out of the fall when her idiot knight jumped out of Vah Rhudania, but she wasn’t particularly proficient with the maneuver, and her execution had been off.

Dazedly, she saw him kneel in front of her with a concerned gaze, and he quickly scanned her body for injuries. He seemed relieved, and helped her to sit up while she caught her breath. It wasn’t until her chest stopped throbbing that she remembered she was angry with him. She jerked away from his hands, and pretended not to notice the amusement in his eyes when she stood up, clumsily, on her own.

She breathed heavily while she tried to work out _exactly_ what she wanted to say to him, but, in her exhaustion, settled for the basics.

“What… in _Hylia’s_ name did you think you were doing?”

He looked up, and stood to address her appropriately.

He shrugged.

_Oh no, sir. Not this time._

She managed to reign in her frustration on the frail hope that it might actually inspire him to speak. If that didn’t work, well… she’d figure that out when she got there.

“Sir Link,” he looked shocked at her respectful address, “I am not an idiot. I am aware that, though you rarely speak, there are some with whom you choose to converse. I would very much like it if, just for right now, you chose to explain yourself to me.” She straightened a bit, hoping the effect might remind him of just _who_ he’d pulled off a cliff. “Why did we jump out of a Divine Beast, and why did you choose to trap Daruk, someone who you consider a friend, inside that same Divine Beast?”

He blinked at her. Then took a breath, and looked into her eyes. She’d forgotten how piercing his gaze could be. “I had to, Princess.”

Now it was her turn to blink. She hadn’t actually expected him to do it. “But surely—”

“Daruk’s problems weren’t with the controls, Your Highness. He lacked the confidence to find the solutions for himself. You were too involved in the project to notice, and I was worried what the consequences might be. I knew him, and I knew myself, and I knew that the three of us would live. He’ll figure out the controls, come back to us, and be a better pilot for it. I’m sorry that I didn’t have time to consult with you, and that you were made uncomfortable by my methods.”

She stared at him. His gaze was as clear and direct as his words had been, and she knew with absolute certainty that he spoke the truth. Though, by the steady confidence in his eyes, she doubted he was actually sorry for what he did.

_But should I really expect him to be?_

He was right: she’d been distracted. And that distraction would’ve resulted, at the very least, in a hobbled pilot for Vah Rhudania, and possibly a political complication with a friendly, foreign nation. He’d bailed her out, and she knew she’d given him no real reason to.

_Possibly plenty of reasons not to._

The thought made her suddenly ashamed, and she had to turn away.

“I thank you. That quick decision-making likely saved your nation, and me, a great deal of trouble. I will endeavor to avoid such distraction in the future. Such responsibility should not fall to you.”

She walked away from him, pretending interest in a lizard which scurried past her. A small part of her felt as if she owed her knight some kind of reconciliation, but as she turned to consider it, she saw the flash of his blade as he moved through his drills, and she was reminded, with startling clarity, just what she was, and why they needed the Divine Beasts in the first place.

She turned away from him.


	10. Vah Rhudania

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Memory 4 is inside this chapter, so that dialogue is not mine.

By the time Daruk came back for them with Vah Rhudania, Link was thoroughly confused.

As little as he cared for it, he’d gotten used to the Princess’s hatred, and had gradually removed any expectations of a positive relationship between them.

But after he spoke, he saw something flash in her eyes, something that looked remarkably like regret. And understanding.

When she left to investigate a local lizard, he felt a wave of emotion wash over him, and he frantically tried to block it. There was relief there, and frustration too, but he didn’t have time to figure out what he felt while she was standing right beside him, and he went through his sword routines, hoping to still his mind.

It worked, and he would’ve been calm, except that her next greeting, after he gestured towards Vah Rhudania’s approach, was as cold as their interactions had been this morning.

As they boarded the Divine Beast, he simmered with confusion and frustration. When he saw the Princess begin inspecting some of the inner control panels, he went outside of the machine where Daruk lingered.

As he approached, he saw Daruk pressing buttons and stretching enthusiastically, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit lighter.

“Yeah! I think I’m finally getting the hang of controlling this Divine Beast!”

Suddenly, Daruk stopped his maneuvers, and Vah Rhudania froze, roaring into the burning sky.

“I tell you what…sure is a blast piloting a toy like this around. Let those other Champions know, they better eat their gravel if they wanna keep up with Daruk.”

Link almost sighed with relief. It was good to see his friend back to the blustering, optimistic warrior the world needed him to be.

“Speaking of which, can you believe this view? Just look at all those delectable rocks sprinkled on those mountains… Mighty tasty.”

Link smiled for a moment.

“I may not know a whole lot about this Calamity Ganon thing… but mark my words, I’ll protect this land of ours to the death! Right, little guy?”

Link recognized the fire in his eye, and readied himself.

SLAP

It took a moment before he was ready to continue the conversation.

“Hey, by the way… congrats on becoming the Princess’s appointed knight. That’s a really big deal! Protecting the King’s daughter… No pressure!”

Link smiled as his friend’s hand settled on his back.

“Seriously, though. The Princess is a strong personality—so strong she can’t quite see the range for the peaks. Remember that, and you should be fine.”

Link mulled that over on the ride back to Hyrule, as well as Daruk’s enigmatic comment about the rumbling of Death Mountain.

That night, he increased his drill time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Calamity fear is definitely going to play a role in this story, and there will be a bit more of it once things start to pick up.
> 
> (Another time jump ahead: straight to memory 5)


	11. Attacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So memory 5 is near the end of this chapter (the dialogue there isn't mine)
> 
> The third entry in Zelda's journal is right after this chapter.

As the weeks passed, Zelda’s feelings of failure grew more frantic.

Something was different in the air: Death Mountain was more violent, the Yiga were active again, and the road to Zora’s domain was becoming near impassable. Once the Hero appeared, Hyrule was placed at the end of a steadily shrinking fuse, and now, all the signs seemed to indicate their time was fast approaching.

Now, when she stood up from another set of futile hours on her knees before the Goddess, it wasn’t only shame and frustration she felt, but dread. If ever there was a time for her power to awaken, it was now. But the Goddess was deaf to her pleas.

It was becoming ever clearer to her that prayer wouldn’t solve the problems she was facing. She had no teacher, no real way of working out her path, so the only thing she had left was her own intuition, and, regardless of what her father said, she knew she had to do _something_.

She dove headfirst into her research, recognizing they knew far too little about the nature of the technology they sought to harness. Efforts to maintain full control of the guardians had been unsuccessful, and, as she realized the insufficiency of the knowledge currently available to them, she felt herself increasingly drawn to the mysteries which remained uninvestigated, particularly the abandoned structures which lay strewn across Hyrule.

No one had a firm idea of exactly what they were or how they functioned. She found mentions of ancient sages seemingly trapped inside, but, while it wouldn’t surprise her to discover the structures to be elaborate tombs, the language didn’t imply the sages’ deaths. The more she found, the more certain she became that some power lurked inside of these structures. Unbidden, the prophecy came back to her mind.

_The power to oppose it lay dormant beneath the ground._

What if they hadn’t excavated everything when they found the Divine Beasts? The structures were small, but the references she found in the ancient Sheikah texts suggested they may have elaborate inner workings. Didn’t that imply parts of them were, in fact, underground?

She didn’t expect to open them, many had already tried, but she knew she had to investigate the sites personally.

As she strode out of the library, brief, whipping hums interrupted her thoughts, and she remembered she wasn’t alone. Ever.

She hadn’t thought it possible, but her stoic escort had only grown more somber as the weeks progressed. He spent every free second allotted to him moving through his drills, which had clearly increased in difficulty and duration. Though the action was often distracting, even she could see that the Hero had grown stronger and more focused over the past weeks.

She kept walking, hoping that, this time, he might not follow. This was something she wanted to do on her own, and while her father may not respect her, she hoped to, at the very least, respect herself.

She heard footsteps behind her, and it appeared solitude was too much to ask for. But before she could turn to them, she noticed guards forming up around her, and marching out the gate.

She wanted answers, but she couldn’t locate the Commander, and none of the foot soldiers paid her any mind. Luckily, her escort seemed just as disturbed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him snag a soldier by the arm, and give him a demanding glare. She closed her eyes to better overhear.

“There’s been an attack over in Akkala. We’re being sent as backup.”

“Who?”

Her eyebrows lifted.

“We don’t know yet. From what I’ve heard, the message didn’t have much information, but that might just be what they told us.”

“ _Soldier! Back in line!”_

She looked over to see the two exchange a nod, and the soldier reentered formation. Before she could react, her knight turned to her, and she saw the adrenaline burning in his eyes.

“Can you investigate one of those structures on the way?”

She gaped. _How did he…_

But a better thought occurred to her.

“I wish I could, but the one I need to look at hasn’t been investigated by Purah and Robbie yet. It’s up near Tabantha.”

It wasn’t strictly a lie. That structure _hadn’t_ been examined yet. But any of them would have worked just fine.

His eyes flashed with frustration, but she cut in before he had a chance to respond.

“I understand that you need to go to Akkala. I shall be perfectly fine on the road to Tabantha. I’ve taken it many times, and I’ll ride swiftly.”

He shook his head, but she wasn’t done.

“The Yiga are confined to the Gerudo Desert for now. Urbosa’s informed my father of this. Any other monsters I can easily outrun with the white horse in the stables.”

He seemed to consider it, and her heart leaped with hope, but then something firm settled in his gaze.

“Sorry, Princess. I swore to protect you with my life, and that supersedes my commitments here. Give me a moment to ask the commander for a message, should it be relevant.”

Her throat burned with indignation. At an average gallop, the site was less than a day’s ride. And surely he’d heard the gossip about the speed of the stablemaster’s latest stallion? She was willing to admit that her self-defense skills weren’t sufficient for her needs, being nonexistent, but this went past caution. This was insult.

“I’m afraid I won’t. You’re this land’s Chosen Hero and your duty is to Akkala as much as it is to me. I _will_ be safe on this journey. Your actions today will not be about protection, or duty. They will be about _respect_.”

He looked at her, stunned, and she used his distraction to push past him towards the stables.

She moved quickly, informing the stablemaster of her intentions, and giving the stable hand just enough time to ready the stallion before hopping on and galloping toward Tabantha.

-

“Nothing. Just as I thought.”

She made an effort not to be disappointed. She’d translated some of the markings which encompassed the ancient structure, and they’d been clear. But she hadn’t been totally able to accept it.

“It appears that this structure was designed to be exclusively accessed by the sword’s chosen one.”

As she felt melancholy overtake her, she rejected it, latching firmly to her earlier determination like a hunting dog on the throat of a boar.

“But designs can always be worked around, at least I hope. How do I get inside…?” Her eyes sweeped the unresponsive construction.

“I need to activate it somehow.”

She began to consider what looked to be doors, when she heard something approaching from behind.

Hoofbeats.

_He_ dropped off the horse, almost frantic in his pursuit.

_So. He doesn’t respect me then._

She didn’t look beneath the anger that rose up within her, or she would’ve found more hurt than she had an appropriate explanation for. As he approached, she didn’t push away the fire which now roared inside her. She dove straight in.

“I thought I made it clear that I am not in need of an escort.”

She waited. He said nothing.

Of course he did.

“It seems I’m the only one with a mind of my own. I, the person in question, am fine, regardless of the king’s orders. Return to the castle. And tell that to my father, please.”

She pushed past him, and when she heard the footsteps behind her, like she knew she would, every frustration she’d ever repressed, every moment stolen by the presence of a stranger at her heels, exploded in her mind.

“ _And stop following me_!”

She stared at him, waiting, as blood roared in her ears. He said nothing, but as her pulse returned to normal, she realized he didn’t need to.

In his shock, whatever mask he usually held had fallen away, and she peered right into a torrent of confusion, outrage, and hurt.

A feeling she was all too familiar with.

She realized for a moment what she’d done, and turned away before he could see the rush of shame on her face. Before she could really feel it.

She jumped onto her horse, and fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'll gladly confess my love for Zelda's research and it will certainly continue


	12. Gerudo Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mini time jump (about a week, maybe a bit more). This chapter is based off of Urbosa's 5th and 6th journal entries, and contains the 6th memory.

Link caught himself just as he started to fall asleep. Wearily, he righted himself, and leaned against the tree to resume his observation of the Princess’s tent.

_I remember when I used to watch for what was_ outside _that flap._

Ever since that day in Tabantha, the Princess had barely spoken, but he could tell from her unconscious mumbling that she was thinking often, and her frequent escape attempts only confirmed his theory.

She always denied it. Whenever he caught up with her, she concocted some story about how the time needed to be _just right_ to catch this particular dragonfly, or how her horse had been desperate for a quick energy release.

_As if it isn’t obvious the horse is as tired of her as I am._

This was a new low for them. Despite all of their negative interactions, and the lack of basic respect she’d shown him, on some level, he’d expected her to, at least, refrain from rebelling against his every effort to do his job.

_I’d also expected to trust her._

He tried to gulp down the rising tightness in his throat, looking up at the sky for a moment before resuming his watch.

Even though she’d hated him, she’d been honest. It’d taken its disappearance for him to realize it, but that had been the foundation of their professional relationship. She could hate him; she could yell at him; she could resent his silence, but she would let him know. And he knew that.

There had even been times—when memory brought him back to the tension hanging in the air of the guardhouse—when that honest dislike had been a relief.

But she’d taken that from him. And now he had no ground to stand on. Allowing his thoughts to spiral, he almost let out a dark chuckle.

_Maybe those attempts actually_ are _the most honest way she can express how she feels about you._

He shook his head to clear it, refusing to indulge any further. He’d always been an insomniac, so he could function on lack of sleep better than most, but he was approaching a week with barely an hour or two a night. Sleep called to him minute by minute, and it was becoming harder to resist. But he didn’t have a choice.

Ever since they’d begun their journey to visit Urbosa in Gerudo Town, the Princess had been eerily normal. She read ancient texts on horseback, she stopped to investigate local flora and fauna, she even monologued on occasion about whatever had just captured her attention. No sitting still, no gears turning in her gaze, and no escape attempts. The change was sudden. He didn’t trust it.

It was particularly important to him the closer they got to Gerudo Desert. While the Princess was convinced Urbosa had the Yiga problem contained, he wasn’t so sure. And no amount of confusion, frustration or professional squabbles, no matter how infuriating, were worth her life.

As they approached Gerudo Town, the Princess became increasingly pleased with herself, and it set him on edge. He couldn’t shake the feeling that one of two things had gone wrong: the Princess had had a personality transplant, or he’d been duped.

-

It was the latter, of course.

The minute they reached the gates, Link felt himself relax in anticipation of the market and waterfall he could just make out in the distance. The Princess progressed easily into the town, and she turned to look at him as two spears crossed directly in front of his chest. He looked up at the guards in surprise.

“No _voe_ are permitted within Gerudo Town. The Princess will be safe among Urbosa’s guard.”

While he wasn’t familiar with the language, he could catch the meaning. He turned back to the Princess in disbelief, and she had the decency to seem a little guilty.

“It’s _Urbosa_. She’s family.” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand. “I promise I’ll be safe here. And I think we _both_ deserve a little time apart.”

_Well that’s new._ Before he could think of a response, she’d turned away and started toward the palace.

-

As he walked away from the gate, his mind worked frantically. He needed two things: a way inside the city, and sleep.

The first was much more complicated than the second, and though a tiny part of him felt like a traitor, he knew he could better accomplish his first goal with at least a couple hours under his belt.

So, for now, he made his way back into the desert, set up a tent on the road back to Hyrule, and slept.

-

Afterward, he tried sneaking into the city, but the Gerudo guards were incredibly perceptive. While he could’ve given it another try, he decided to go through more official channels.

He’d have to find a way to contact Urbosa.

She was the Chief, and she seemed both level-headed, and approving of him. She was the most likely to aid him.

_And no one is more protective of the Princess._

He tied a rope around his waist, and managed to find a part of the wall where guards were scarce. He started climbing, making sure to stay outside the perimeter of the city.

As he reached the top, he spotted some large crates braced against the wall. He threaded the rope between the boards before tying himself off, his body just dangling off the edge. He gritted his teeth, but the crate held.

He glanced at the note he’d written ( _Need to talk. Meet outside the city – Link)_ before attaching it to one of his arrows. Then, looking out over the city, he found what looked to be the palace, and a veranda on its second story.

Praying it belonged to Urbosa, he knocked his arrow, and shot it straight toward the patio.

He sighed, knowing it was the best he could do for now, and cut his rope before climbing down the wall to wait.

-

Link woke to a soft chuckle beside him, and quickly stood.

Urbosa towered over him, her eyes bright.

“You’re lucky your letter found me first, Hero. Any of the palace guards would’ve assumed you were a Yiga spy and quickly dispatched you. Luckily, I know they would never dare be so direct.”

She waited, leaving a space to respond, but it was courtesy he found in her eyes, rather than expectation.

He said nothing.

“So, what was it you wished to discuss with me?”

He tried to speak, but habit forced a pause.

“I believe the Princess is using Gerudo’s laws to avoid me.”

She smiled. “I believe you’re correct. She wouldn’t be the first. Though I’ll confess, I’m not sure what you expect me to do. The laws exist.”

“You could make an exception.”

“And why would I do that?”

“This region is the center of the Yiga operation, and I’m sworn to protect the Princess. I can’t do that from outside the walls.

“That can’t be it, boy. You know I’m capable of protecting her.”

He hesitated, considering how best to respond.

“With all due respect, Urbosa, I didn’t swear to trust you with her safety.”

She laughed freely then.

“No, I don’t suppose Rhoam would’ve put _that_ gem in your vows.” Her grin turned a bit wicked, then. “Though you do seem particularly devoted to them… may I guess why?”

His heart stopped at the implication in her voice.

“Relax, Hero. I’m teasing you. I know Hylians have strict norms about that kind of thing.”

She looked him up and down as the Princess would an intriguing dragonfly. “Though frankly I fail to see why.”

He felt distinctly uncomfortable, but kept a tight hold on his expression.

“Regardless, your dedication is admirable. And appreciated.” Her look was genuine then, and he almost smiled in response.

“There is a way you can make it into the city, but I can’t promise you’ll find her. She’s been wandering around quite a bit. She might’ve even left the city by now—”

Alarm shot through him.

“— _with_ my personal guard at her side.” Her grin grew teasing again, but she spared him.

“If you don’t find her, I’d suggest you head home. She’s difficult to track. I’ll send word when I see her again.”

He nodded.

Her grin grew impossibly wider. “Now then, how to get you into the city…”

-

He hadn’t gone home. Once her messenger approached his tent, he quickly made his way over to Vah Naboris, shivering in the desert cold.

He managed to come aboard, and was surprised to find the Princess asleep in Urbosa’s arms. She heard him approach.

“Ah, well… you certainly got here fast. I should have expected as much, from the Princess’s own appointed knight.”

She saw the direction of his gaze, and turned to the young woman collapsed in her arms, regarding her fondly.

“She was out on a survey all day today. Still as the sands now…” Urbosa turned back to him.

“So…? Spill it, boy. Have the two of you been getting along all right?”

He shifted, unsure how to respond.

“It’s okay… I know. Your silence speaks volumes.”

She turned back to the Princess. “She gets frustrated every time she looks up and sees you carrying that sword on your back. It makes her feel like a failure when it comes to her own destiny.”

He nearly gaped.

“Don’t worry, it’s not like you carry blame in any of this.” For the first time since he met her, he thought her eyes looked a bit sad.

“It’s unfortunate. She’s put in more than enough time.”

Her speech took on more strength as she continued, pride and quiet outrage warring in her voice.

“Ever since she was a young girl, she’s gone through rigorous daily routines to show her dedication… She once passed out in the freezing waters trying to access this sealing power. And she has nothing to show for it… That’s the motivation driving her research.” Her voice grew soft again.

“I’d be doing the same thing.” She moved to caress the Princess’s forehead. “She really is quite… special.”

She didn’t look at him then, but there was a hardness in her voice that hadn’t been there before.

“You be sure to protect her with your life.”

His blood went cold at the severity of the request. Though he’d already made the vow, it felt… _real_ when Urbosa commanded it. But the steel rose inside him to meet it, and her next look cut the heavy atmosphere.

“It’s quite the honor.” She smiled.

He nodded.

“The night brings a chill… It’s probably time we take her in.” Her grin grew wicked again. “Ah…”

She snapped, and lightning cracked the air, the thunder shocking the Princess awake with a yelp. He staggered.

“Urbosa! What was that?! Did you feel that?” She paused to take her breath. But then she saw him.

“Wait, what—how did you—what are you doing here?!” Tired, anxious confusion streaked her gaze, and he struggled to come up with an adequate response. It was the first day in months they’d been apart, and the sight and sound of her woke conflicting emotions inside him.

Urbosa broke out laughing.

“Wh-what’s so funny?”

As Urbosa winded down, Link nodded to the Princess, who seemed surprised at his easy exit, and made his way back to his tent…

…where he found the clothes that would allow him to stay in Gerudo Town.

Lying down in an inn for the night, Link found himself lost in thought.

_She gets frustrated every time she looks up and sees you carrying that sword on your back. It makes her feel like a failure…_

He didn’t know whether understanding it could solve the mess they’d created between them. But still…

It was nice to know the reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link does stuff! Next is the Yiga.


	13. Yiga

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so memory 7 is in here, as well as mentions of Zelda's 4th diary entry.
> 
> Trigger Warning: Subtle mentions of dissociation and trauma-induced anxiety; some body freezing (just skip the transcription of memory 7 if any of this is an issue); begins with "She...off." and ends with "She...lifeline" (there's a dash to mark the ending as well)

Just before dawn, Zelda looked out her window, and waited.

She hadn’t wanted to make Urbosa suspicious, so she didn’t speak the whole way back to Gerudo Town, feigning fatigue to mask her outrage. There was only one way her ever-present knight escort would’ve known to find her on Vah Naboris.

Urbosa had spoken with him. She didn’t know how or when, but she should’ve known why. Urbosa had always been protective of her, and she would never have turned away an extra set of eyes to keep her safe. It didn’t matter to her whether those same eyes made Zelda constantly angry.

_And guilty_. She winced. She’d thought speaking to the Hero was difficult before, but now any interaction with him brought her physical pain: she’d been sick to her stomach, plagued by the headaches she used to get before exams…

The same ones she always got before speaking to her father.

She couldn’t shake away the incident in Tabantha. She’d never gotten over her anger with him for not trusting her, and she’d never dealt with the shame she felt over lashing out. Regardless of what he did, he was her subordinate, and forced to spend his life in her company. Yelling at him in that context wasn’t just cruel, it was abusive.

So yes, she’d tried to get away from him. She’d loved being outdoors and travelling. In fact, those were the few times she could truly escape her father and the pressure of realizing her powers. But their strained relationship had stolen almost any joy she could’ve gleaned from these past few months on the move. And even though he hadn’t spoken to her since the day Akkala was attacked, and though his face was often empty of emotion, she knew it was true for him too.

A break had done them good, and on her survey of Vah Naboris, even with sand clouds hanging in the sky, she’d taken her freshest breath of air in months.

She needed more of it if she was going to stay civil on the journey back to Hyrule, and she no longer trusted Urbosa or her guards to provide it for her.

So she’d managed to find some coffee inside the guest bedroom, drink it before sleeping to ensure a short rest, and wait out the night just inside of her door. She knew that dawn was when the guard shifted, and that she might be able to use their distraction to climb out of her window, and make her way along the waterfalls to the city’s outer wall.

So she waited, listening to the guards’ conversation for entertainment as well as clues.

“Haven’t seen any signs of the Yiga over the last few weeks. Do you think we snuffed them out for good with our last raid?”

“Goddess, I hope so. I’ll be nursing those sickle injuries for _months_.”

“Hmph. Only you and the whole regiment. You’d think that—hold on. Let’s discuss this in the barracks… _Sav’otta_!”

That was her cue. She moved as quickly as she could while staying silent, and hopped out her window. She dangled for a moment, looking for the waterway.

Luckily, her window opened on the side of the palace, and the water flowed just beneath her, out and over the buildings of the city.

She let herself drop down, and winced a bit at the impact in her knees before making her way through the city.

-

Once she made it out of sight of Gerudo Town, she took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the desert dawn. It was the perfect time of day, the balancing point between freezing and sweltering.

As she walked, she saw a few figures in the distance. One, from the hunched position of her back appeared to be elderly. She strode up to greet them.

“Hello travelers! What brings you to the Gerudo desert?”

The trio exchanged a glance, and the younger man stepped forward to speak.

“Botany, actually! We’re Hylians, as you can see, and we don’t get much opportunity to investigate the desert flora back home.”

Her heart soared. “That’s wonderful! I’m a botany enthusiast, myself, but I’ll confess I haven’t seen many plants out this far. You’ll have to head East. There’s an oasis there near the path back to Hylia.”

The old woman seemed enthused. “Fascinating! Would you consider escorting us to this oasis, my dear? I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to stand this heat, and I’m afraid my grandchildren are both rather poor with directions.”

Zelda smiled. She was glad to help these people, and gladder still they hadn’t seemed to recognize her. That rarely happened anymore, particularly among Hylians.

“I’d love to.”

“Wonderful! Say, my dear, would you care for a banana on the way?”

-

It took a little over an hour to make their way to the oasis, but the journey was worth it. The trio exclaimed at the sight of the palms and melons which littered the surrounding area.

They’d wandered a bit from the pool when the granddaughter realized her canteen was empty.

Zelda winced in sympathy. “Should we head back a bit, then? I’m not sure that water is potable, but it should be better than nothing.”

The old woman shook her head. “No matter. I have a hydromelon that I stashed from that area. I’ll open it for us.”

She removed a fairly large hydromelon from her pack, and set it in the sand before reaching back in to draw out a weapon.

It was a well-crafted sickle.

Zelda froze.

She recalled the guards’ words from earlier, and felt her heart set off at a gallop as the reality of her situation slapped her.

She was out in the desert, miles from Gerudo Town, alone and unarmed, surrounded by members of the Yiga Clan.

She was also an idiot.

But there was no time to dwell on that. She collected her body, and fixed a casual smile on her face as she affected a distant expression. She focused on maintaining outward calm.

_Good. They’ll think I’m daydreaming. Now think._

She didn’t think she could make a grab for a weapon, and even if she did, she wasn’t sure she could hold her own. Escape was a better plan, but if she ran, she’d blow her cover, and the altercation would be over in seconds. Frantically considering other options, she looked at the horizon. It was well past dawn. Urbosa would be worried. In fact, looking at the time, she’d probably sent out warriors and informed Link a couple hours ago.

_Link._ Unbidden, his warnings came back to her with a flash of regret, and she quickly shut down that train of thought before she could grow distracted.

So. She’d have to occupy them for as long as she could while making sure they didn’t know she’d recognized them. If she could manage that, she would work on getting them to move closer to Gerudo Town. She just hoped she hadn’t already walked too far into _their_ trap.

“You’re quiet, darling.”

She looked down at the old woman, and imagined her father stood behind her, whispering in her ear.

“Oh, just thinking about my aunt.” _Don’t mention running away. Knowing you’re missing will push them to action. Stick to domestic topics._

“Oh? What about your aunt?”

_They know enough about you to target you. Play a role they’ll believe._

_17-year-old girl it is, then._ She sighed, and sat down in the sand. She sat near enough to the old woman to seemingly be confiding in her, while still giving herself space to flee if necessary.

“We had a fight the other day, and that’s rare for us.”

“Ah. So you’re close with her then.”

“Yes.”

“Does she know you’re out here, alone? I’d be concerned for either of my grandchildren if I knew they were in that position.” She twirled the sickle in her hand.

She had to choose a course quickly.

_Better they think no one’s coming,_ she decided. _Hopefully they’ll grow complacent._

“No, she doesn’t.” She feigned melancholy. “I couldn’t stand being in the city anymore, and I knew she’d only leave me alone if I told her I’d be working on one of my projects for the day.”

Something flashed across the woman’s face. A grin?

“Well, that’s a shame. I’m sorry to hear your family is having troubles. Luckily, you have the day to spend with us, and we can discuss our research before you have to go back and face your aunt. How does that sound?”

For a moment, she thought her ploy worked. But out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other two Yiga slowly crouch, and reach into their packs.

She took off.

Her blood roared in her ears as her body plunged into motion. Every limb was engaged, and she knew that one wrong move could throw her to the ground.

She couldn’t hear them. Every ounce of resources her body could spare was thrown into her legs. After a time that passed like eternity and an instant, she made it back to the oasis, only to find a Yiga in full uniform blocking her path.

Her momentum was broken, and suddenly her mind felt clumsy and slow. She turned to find two more behind her, and her roaring heart separated her from her body. She felt her stumble from outside of herself.

As the Yiga warrior stood over her, sickle raised, none of her limbs responded to her frantic orders, and it was all she could do to turn away from her impending death.

But it didn’t come.

She heard a grunt and a clash of metal before the thud of flesh on the ground brought her back to reality.

She looked up to see _him_ standing over her. His eyes were firm, and every thought, every muscle in his body hovered, waiting for the two warriors to make their move. It was a small motion that brought his sword up into position, but it was precise, and the simple movement was enough to show his competence.

The Yiga reacted immediately, and their instinctual recoil gave Link the upper hand. As soon as they’d retreated a safe distance, they fled the scene.

She was frozen still, unable to comprehend what just happened to her. Her gaze was stuck on Link’s face, his quiet confidence anchoring her as her body and mind fought to regain control.

He turned back from the Yiga, and knelt beside her. He took her hand, and as he let compassion show in his gaze, she felt a dam break within her, and she began to tremble.

She found she couldn’t control it, and the realization only increased her distress. Recognizing the situation immediately, Link wrapped her in his arms, and, for just that moment, she forgot about everything. She forgot who they were and everything they said, clinging to the warm, human comfort like a lifeline.

-

Afterward, she sat in Link’s tent, at a crossroads.

She’d taken her journal with her when she left Gerudo Town, and as soon as they’d reached his camp, she’d taken the time to scrawl her thoughts inside it.

She knew she should apologize tomorrow, when she had a level head. That would likely bring about a more honest interaction. And yet…

Something about this moment felt raw. And real. She couldn’t help but see the two of them differently.

_I’ve been so arrogant…_

She needed to talk to someone, but she had no desire to go back to Gerudo Town tonight. She’d told him as much. Her thoughts wandered for a bit, and settled on the knight outside the tent.

What was he—Link—doing now? Was he thinking about what happened, or was this just a normal day for him? After today she couldn’t help but think that, despite being around him for months, she hardly knew him at all. And that made it impossible to quiet her wonderings on just who the person sitting in front of their campfire really was.

With a start, she realized that in all their traveling, she’d never sat down with him. Not outside, not in the tent, and not by the fire.

It was time to remedy that.

She walked outside the tent to find him staring at a bowl of fruit simmering on the fire, lost in thought. He looked up at her entrance, not bothering to mask his surprise. She hesitated, then sat down across from him.

“Hi.”

He raised his eyebrows at her.

She gave an unsteady chuckle. “I know this is… unusual, to say the least, but I—I couldn’t help but think—”

She stopped. Her voice had never been so out of control before. She took a breath.

“I’ve come to a lot of realizations today, probably too many to get into tonight, but one of them… one of them is that, over the last few months, I’ve been very… _wrong_.”

She looked up at him, and noticed his face was shuttered. She felt her chest seize up for a moment, but she knew she had to continue.

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry. I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to realize it, but I—but I think I’ve consistently misread you. And—and I don’t think I ever took the time to get to know you at all. I’m sorry for that, and sorry for how I treated you. It would be wrong regardless, but it was especially wrong given I based that behavior on a you that I thought was you that wasn’t really you and—”

He interrupted her by taking her hand again. There was understanding in his gaze, and she realized she’d been spiraling. She smiled in thanks, before squeezing his hand, and letting it go. She straightened in her seat, readying to speak again, and cleared her throat.

“Anyway. What I mean to say is, I’m terribly ashamed of how I’ve behaved. I apologize for any hurt and inconvenience I’ve caused you over the last few months, and, if it’s at all possible, I would love the chance to start again.”

She looked at him, waiting. His gaze seemed to consider her, and her heart wrenched a bit at the familiar expression. He hadn’t done that since the first couple days they met. His eyes were bright in the light of the campfire, and something firmed in them.

He nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there will be some subtle anxiety symptoms (and a little bit of self-blame, but that gets corrected) that Zelda has to handle for the next few chapters, nothing major (this story isn't about trauma), I just felt like I needed to do the event and the character some justice, particularly since she seems a little shaken up in her diary. Don't worry though, she will have plenty of support.


	14. Bananas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next couple chapters took a bit to work through, but I like the finished product. Hope you enjoy!

As the Princess walked away with Urbosa into Gerudo Town, Link breathed a sigh of relief.

Just before they’d left, Urbosa had turned to him, and nodded.

_I’ll be with her_.

While he knew he should be there himself, he trusted Urbosa. And when the tightness in his chest eased, he realized two things: that she was the only person he knew the Princess could be safe with, and that he hadn’t relaxed in months.

For a moment, standing there in the desert, with no one’s eyes on him and no one to protect, Link felt the air fill his lungs and the lines of his face ease. And suddenly, in that moment, he understood the Princess. This was what she had longed for, all those days he trailed behind her. A moment alone, where she could be no one, with nothing to do and nowhere to be. And maybe, as much as he depended on having something to defend, maybe he’d needed this too.

He looked back toward the town, but felt reluctance fill him. He was drawn toward the horizon, wanting nothing more than to sit in the sand, stare at the blue of the sky, and wait. But at the sound of voices, he looked up, and saw a band of three travelers approach the gates. Then he remembered.

_The Princess was attacked yesterday._

He squared his shoulders, and felt the familiar weight of purpose settle in him. He remembered his father’s words from a decade earlier.

He’d been a giant then, in stature and significance, and Link had hung on every word.

“I have to go, son.” He hadn’t voiced the regret, but he didn’t need to. His eyes shone with it. He’d cupped his cheek in a rough soldier’s palm.

“When you protect these people, a moment could change everything. So your life is never your own. If it were…” his voice cracked then, and he shook his head at his own vulnerability. He patted Link’s cheek, and turned away.

Now, Link drew a breath. He protected his people. He had to go to town.

-

Link moved silently in the market place, soaking in the sounds and the anonymity as he kept a watchful eye on the Princess’s movements, and those of the people around her. Urbosa stood beside her, and the joint effort steadied him.

The Princess was speaking with an archaeologist, but something was off. Poring over maps should’ve had her bubbling or musing. She seemed restrained, and the light in her eyes had dimmed. He was surprised at the loss he felt thrum through his chest.

She jumped a little as the archaeologist slammed a book, and he suddenly remembered the work he’d had to do in the villages after a monster raid, tending to people whose minds and bodies needed to sort through life’s shadows. Inadvertently he felt his heart go out to her. He saw Urbosa set her hand on the Princess’s arm, but she didn’t look back at the Gerudo Chief. His concern grew, and it took several moments for him to realize he’d focused on the Princess when he should be looking for any suspicious behavior. He turned away, and didn’t consider the flash of reluctance he felt as he did.

They stayed with the archaeologist for hours, and he felt his curiosity rise. Before their fight in Tabantha, the Princess’s research had taken an interesting turn, and he’d often eavesdropped on her muttering whenever she camped inside the library. He would’ve tried now, but he caught something else.

Over just a bit from where he stood, someone was buying three bunches of bananas. They already had bananas sticking out of their pack.

Urbosa warned him to look for this cue.

He sidled a little closer, pretending interest in the wares of an arrow vender.

“… and our distributer is planning the cargo delivery to take place in a few months’ time.”

“Well, I’ve heard there may be more spiders in this shipment than anticipated. How does he plan to account for them?”

“He’s sending someone trained in their removal to look over the situation soon, but he’s also hoping to get involved more directly. He thinks this will encourage a more productive work environment, and that the spiders may be caught by the workers involved with the shipment.”

“Hm. Well, keep me posted. You’re my favorite vendor. I’d hate to have this go poorly.”

“Me too. But we’ll still be in business, regardless.”

“Sa’vaaq.”

“Sa’vaaq.”

He kept eyes on the buyer up until they left the town. He moved back to watch the vendor. They didn’t appear to be at all interested in the Princess, but he knew he had to inform Urbosa. The Princess was smart, though. He doubted she’d have trouble recognizing him. He needed some way to signal her.

He moved back toward the fruit vendor, and bought himself a banana.

-

It was evening when she met him outside the palace.

“The Princess is inside, surrounded by my guards. I told her I’d be back soon, though, so we should be brief. Not that I’m terribly worried about _you_ dragging this out.”

She smiled at him. “The banana was a nice touch. You eat so often, at first I wasn’t sure whether it was a signal.”

He gave her a small smile in response, and her eyes grew serious.

“So. What’d you see?”

He told her.

She held her chin in thought. “I think you’re right. The spider talk was odd… I actually keep up with our legitimate fruit vendors, and I’ve never heard them say anything like that.”

Her eyes firmed and she seemed to reach some decision. Her hand settled on her hip.

“I’ll discuss this with Rhoam personally. From the way they spoke I doubt the Yiga are solely a Gerudo problem. You should leave with the Princess tonight. Make sure you’re out of the desert by sunrise. Hopefully that will make your departure less obvious. The Princess already plans on travelling to Death Mountain, and if you stay off the main roads that should give you plenty of time to lose them while the King and I discuss.”

He nodded.

She nodded back, turned to leave, but stopped.

Her voice was softer now. “Be careful who you talk to, hero. It sounds like there may be Yiga in some high places.”

He nodded, and she smiled at him. They both turned away, and he left the city.


	15. Understanding

As Zelda and Urbosa left the gates, she was surprised not to find Link waiting for her. She looked at Urbosa questioningly.

She smirked. “He’ll be here. He just needs a moment.”

Zelda let the comment go, a little grateful for the extra time before they set off. She’d decided last night she would do what she could to get to know Link, but she was nervous. She didn’t know anything about him. What if, even when giving each other the benefit of the doubt, they _still_ didn’t get along?

_And that’s assuming I can get to know him in the first place._ She sighed. The Hero of Hyrule was far from forthcoming.

“What is it, little bird?” Urbosa’s voice was soft, and Zelda felt the sense of childhood safety wrap her.

“Just thinking about the journey ahead. It’ll be long.”

She chuckled. “Well. I’m not the one who decided Death Mountain would be my next stop.”

Zelda smiled, but said nothing. She didn’t want to deal with Urbosa’s advice on the subject.

“Really, though. How are you feeling after what happened with the Yiga?”

She shuddered. “I—” She struggled to find words, shifting the topic instead. “When did you learn to fight, Urbosa?”

“When I was young. All Gerudo learn the basics. Chiefs learn a little more.” She shot her a look. “The desert can be a hard place.”

She shook her head, unsteady rage filling her. She preferred it to the helplessness. “I can’t believe that _no one_ in Hyrule thought I might have to learn.” She turned to Urbosa. “Aren’t I supposed to be there when Ganon comes? Did they think I would just stand there while Link fights?”

“I doubt they were thinking about it at all.”

“Well they should have. They should’ve—I shouldn’t—” her breathing grew heavy as sobs rose in her chest.

Urbosa didn’t let them come, crushing her in a firm embrace.

“Shh. This wasn’t your fault. And you’re right. You should’ve had some basic training. But there’s nothing we can do about the past. You’re safe now. And I’ll be damned if I let the Yiga get away with this. Do you understand me?”

“I just—Urbosa, I fell… If it were you, nothing would’ve… but Link had to… I just never thought I could be so _weak._ ”

The Gerudo Chief pulled far enough away to glare at her.

“You’re _not_ weak. People spend their whole lives learning how to handle a situation like that. You were in the presence of Yiga warriors for _hours_ , and you are neither injured or dead. I’d take that as a victory, little bird.”

Urbosa reached forward to hold her chin, waiting for a response. She nodded.

“Good.” She turned to look out into the night. “It looks like your knight’s approaching.”

Zelda took a steadying breath, and started to move toward the figure in the dunes, when Urbosa held her arm. She turned.

“Next time, don’t be afraid to come to me. _Nothing_ could ever make me think less of you.” Her gaze was fierce, and Zelda felt her heart crack. All she could manage was a nod.

Urbosa’s smile was soft, and the warmth of it stayed with her as she strode into the cold desert air.

-

They’d never travelled by night before. Now, looking at the stars strewn across the black sky, she wished she was nocturnal. And there, in the dark, the silence between them didn’t feel as lonely as it had by day.

“Do you ever wish we always travelled by night?”

He glanced at her. She couldn’t make out his expression clearly in the darkness, but he seemed thoughtful. He shrugged.

She was mulling over that response when something hit her.

“Wait, how much do you sleep? I never put it together before, but whenever we travel, you’re there when I go to bed _and_ when I wake, completely put together. And, knowing you, you’d never settle for half-time supervision, so you’re likely awake most of the night and day… how is that possible?”

He looked at her, and shrugged again, but something was different this time. It almost seemed… amused.

She snorted. Considering her next statement carefully, she asked “Is that an answer to the first question?”

He nodded. She thought she saw a slight smile on his face.

“Interesting. Most guardsmen I’ve seen can’t get enough sleep.”

He hesitated, and for a moment she thought he might speak, but then he nodded.

“So, is it a professional decision? More time to watch or train?”

He shook his head.

“So this is chronic, then.”

He smiled, and nodded.

They continued like this for a time, her maneuvering statements and questions to pry answers out of his silent responses. While she was beginning to understand that his quiet demeanor was a part of him, she also felt there were times he wanted to speak, but didn’t, for no reason she could discern. That didn’t seem acceptable to her. Being selective was one thing, but holding in what he’d prefer to express was entirely different. She wanted to find a way to bring that out of him.

Then she recalled his earlier, determined silences. She’d been openly frustrated with him for his lack of communication, and that had only encouraged it.

_I can’t force him._

She looked at the knight beside her, and really considered him. The night sky lit in his eyes as he looked ahead. They’d been silent for a long while now, but he didn’t look as if he’d noticed. He seemed comfortable, but observant, and suddenly, she realized her mistake.

She shook her head. “You know, I used to think your silence meant you hated me.”

He looked at her.

“You clearly weren’t stupid, and I didn’t see any reason for you to refuse to speak unless you were withholding something.”

He looked away.

“And I’m sure that you are, sometimes. But I don’t know that it’s any more than most people keep back.”

He didn’t respond, but he was clearly thinking. So she kept talking.

“I don’t know if you were always this way, but it seems to me that you’re more receptive than most people I know. Always listening and considering, then ready to act or respond when necessary. Even if that makes you a bit more guarded than other people, it’s not…” She trailed off, looking for words.

“Anyway. What I’m trying to say is that I used to push you to talk because your silence unnerved me. But it doesn’t anymore. And even if it did, it wouldn’t matter. So I won’t.”

He turned to consider her, and his gaze seemed to ask a question. She made a leap.

“The questions today, they’re because… well I realized I don’t know you very well, and I wanted to change that.”

He looked surprised, then his brow furrowed, and it seemed like he considered another, but she couldn’t discern it. He hesitated.

“What changed, Princess?”

Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

He seemed at a loss for words, so he gestured between them.

She looked away. “Well. You saved me.”

“I’ve done that before.”

She looked at him again, and remembered. He’d held out his hand to her then, too, but she’d turned away the moment she recognized him. In fact, now that she thought about it, he hadn’t done anything differently.

So what changed?

She took a moment to place herself back there, before chuckling slightly in embarrassment. “Well, I doubt you’ll be terribly surprised by this, but I think the difference was about me.”

She glanced up to gage his reaction, feeling a little exposed, but his gaze was steady. He waited for her to continue.

She took an uneven breath, and looked ahead, steeling herself. “When they attacked me, everything was different. I—” she shook her head. She needed to explain more. She looked over at him.

“I’ve never been attacked before. Not even in a sparring match. I was never trained to fight, so I guess…” She winced, knowing how insensitive it would sound, but she continued. “I guess I never really thought it was difficult. Sure, people spend their lives doing it, but people spend their lives gardening too, and that hadn’t been hard for me to pick up.”

She shuddered. “But the fear… it was everywhere. Once the whole thing started, nothing I’d been or done mattered anymore, and it was just me and my body.” She shook her head, her throat closing. “And none of it worked.” Her mind drifted, and she lost herself in remembering.

He took her hand, and suddenly she was back. Back to the quiet night, and the desert wind. She squeezed gratefully, and took a breath.

“Anyway. There was nothing I could’ve done to predict that. I’ve always thought of myself as a capable person, and I never imagined I would trip in the sand and freeze when my life was at stake.” She shook her head, then looked up at him, respect and understanding filling her.

“But you didn’t. And then I realized, all those drills, the quiet acceptance… you knew that’s what you would face. And you spent _your_ life preparing for it, so that you could be there when someone needed it.”

Even now, his blue gaze was steady and unyielding, and though she felt a bit untethered, the vulnerability new ground between them, she felt comfortable, and found she didn’t really want to look away. She smiled, and gave him a half-shrug.

“So, respect? That’s what changed?”

His smile was almost a chuckle, and he nodded. His eyes seemed lighter somehow when he turned to look ahead of them.

She smiled, and her mind drifted somewhere into the night. Then she realized his hand was still in hers.

Awareness woke there, and she considered the leather padding of his glove, and the calluses she could feel on his fingers. Suddenly, she didn’t want the conversation to be over.

Then his stomach grumbled, and she had to hold back a surprised chuckle as he reached into his pack and brought out some fruit he’d clearly simmered before their trip.

“How much food do you _have_ in that pack?”

His shrug was communicative.

Laughter flooded her then, and she had no desire to hold it back.

When she was able to see him again, he was looking at her strangely. She’d never seen that expression on his face. Before she could place it, something shifted in his eyes, and he took a steadying breath.

“I _wasn’t_ always like this.”

Her mouth almost dropped. “Like what?”

“Quiet.”

She smiled slightly. “So. What changed?”

He smiled at the reference and gestured to the sword on his back.

She drew a breath to speak, but decided to wait. He looked ahead of them.

There was a pause as he gathered his thoughts. She tried not to let her anticipation weigh down the atmosphere. He drew in a breath.

“I wasn’t loud, but I wasn’t… closed, either. When I drew the sword, I was twelve, and my mother…” he hesitated, took a moment to gather himself, and forged ahead.

“My mother just died.”

She gaped, and tears sprung to her eyes as her own grief compulsively welled. She blinked them away, and didn’t respond, not wanting to interrupt.

“She’d always been—” his voice cracked, and he stopped. He shook his head, and seemed to hold something back. She felt a flash of regret.

He took a steadying breath. “I joined the guard early, and I was decent at the job. So some of my friends dared me to go into the woods. To look for this.” He gestured to the sword, and she nodded.

“It was supposed to be a joke. But then it worked.” He shook his head. “There was so much in their eyes that wasn’t there before.” He paused, and his gaze was distant.

“I don’t think any of them ever spoke to me again.”

Shock filled her, but she held still.

“Then it wasn’t enough to be a talented swordsman. All the guards expected…” He floundered for a moment, and looked over at her, his gaze weighted.

_You understand._

She did. All those years walking through the castle halls, and she’d never considered someone else could be the target of those critical eyes.

“I always thought they loved you.”

He looked away, his eyes a little pained. “Most do now, but…” he hesitated again, and she filled in, finally feeling as if she knew a part of him.

“But they don’t love _you._ ”

He nodded, and in the silence that emerged she set aside her dozens of follow-up questions to bask in the camaraderie she felt with the Hero in this moment.

To her surprise, he spoke on his own.

“But… I don’t really mind. It’s what they need. To feel safe.” He shook his head, his eyes filled with a quiet pride. “I can’t imagine doing what they do.”

She looked at him in confusion. “What do you mean? You can’t imagine doing what?”

He looked back at her, almost confused she didn’t know. “Giving everything up. Trusting _us_.”

Her mouth fell, and she looked away as she processed. Why _hadn’t_ she thought of that? She could barely trust _experts_ in guardian research to handle those mysteries. But her whole country willingly depended on two teenagers to save them from destruction. Her mind spun with disbelief. Of course they’d been critical. Of course…

_Of course my father should push me._

She took a deep breath. Link’s skillful silence gave their people hope in his capabilities, and in their own survival. What did she give them?

She spoke before she thought. “Maybe I should try being silent.”

He snorted, and she looked up at him in shock.

He schooled his features, and she considered backing off—it had been _mostly_ a joke—but the surge of defiance she felt overruled it.

“What? You don’t think I could?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. He shrugged. She glared at him, and he seemed to relent. He opened his mouth a few more times before speaking.

“I don’t think it’s a bad thing, Princess. It just wouldn’t be you if you did.” He shrugged again, but it was more genuine.

“Your mind’s very active.”

All agitation left her at that, and she froze.

“That’s what my mother used to say.”

He froze too, his eyes searching her face.

“She never… She always thought I—” her throat closed suddenly, and she looked up at him, anxious, but there was no judgement in his gaze. He looked solemn, and a little sad. Then he gave her a nod.

_Mine too,_ he seemed to say.

She had no words for the emotion that welled up in her, so she squeezed his hand, hoping it was enough to express her gratitude and understanding. He looked down, as if he just noticed they still held hands. He looked a little flustered, and she spoke before he could move away.

“You’re right, I suppose. I just—” she sighed, and shook her head. “I just wish I could do more for them. To reassure them.”

It was his turn to be confused, and he searched her face questioningly, before his gaze firmed in understanding.

“Princess, the people don’t hate you.”

She gaped. “But I haven’t—”

To her further shock, he interrupted her. “You pray for hours every day. And you spend all of your free time working on other ways to help us. To help _them._ ” His gaze was firm, and, in her shock, she was completely wrapped in it.

“They see that.” He hesitated for a moment. “ _I_ see them see that.”

The affirmation filled her, and in his gaze she saw another answer.

_I see it, too._

She took a breath, feeling both stronger and a bit unbalanced. She nodded, and looked at their hands, her heart moving faster for a reason she couldn’t discern.

Running with it, she looked back up at him and smiled nervously.

“So I guess we’re the same, you and I.”

In his shock, she saw another wall drop, and tenderness flashed in his gaze for a moment, making her stomach feel warmer.

Then he smiled slightly, and nodded. She felt herself smile back.

He seemed to wake up, looking around them.

“We’re about to leave the desert, so we should make camp soon. And sleep.” His slight smile was a little distant. They’d discussed that hours ago.

She chuckled and nodded.

They continued and set up camp in comfortable silence. But the warmth never quite left her, even when she went to bed for the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So bits of this were inspired by Zelda and Daruk's next diary entries. Though Daruk's is actually written a bit later, chronologically.


	16. Assassin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Got a bit busy with schoolwork. Anyway, let me know what you guys think of the next couple chapters!

As Zelda entered her tent, Link breathed a sigh of relief. Not for the first time, he was grateful for his insomnia. He needed to think.

As he settled against a nearby rock, he went over the night’s events, looking to place everything in perspective.

But despite himself, he couldn’t help but be drawn back into the spell of it: the earnest glow of her blue-green gaze in the moonlight, the naked stillness as he watched her walls crack, the safety of the night wrapping them, the warmth of her hand in the cold desert air…

He shook his head to clear it. That wasn’t thinking. That was… something else.

They were moving into new ground. He could feel it. Whatever ideas he’d had about what would be between them—cordiality, professional respect, simple camaraderie—were quickly disappearing. Whatever _did_ exist, he couldn’t place it. It felt new, like something particular to the two of them.

She would’ve called it “endemic”. Her brows would’ve furrowed as she analyzed it, and—

He rubbed his hand through his hair, and took a moment to ground himself back in reality.

_What’s gotten into me?_

Talking with Zelda while they travelled was fine, good even. But he had to be able to put that aside when it was time to do his job. He could do that. He could separate those roles in his mind. He firmed his shoulders, and if he felt any doubt, he refused to acknowledge it. He settled into his watch.

After a time, his awareness drifted. When next he looked at the sky, it was nearly noon. Hours had passed.

He sighed, stretching a moment, before deciding to cook some food from his pack. As he moved to stand, he saw a lone traveler inspecting their camp from about twenty yards away. It didn’t appear to be casual observation.

He felt a familiar tension fill his body, readying him to act, but he held back for now, raising his hand in greeting.

The traveler responded, then moved on, but Link didn’t relax. He recalled the conversation from a day prior.

_He’s sending someone trained in their removal to look over the situation soon._

They needed to leave.

Without thinking, he walked right into Zelda’s tent, urgency replacing propriety. He didn’t realize his mistake until he saw her, buried under the pallet, with her knotted hair strewn across her face. Her journal was open beside her. He coughed, embarrassment flooding him.

She sat up with a start, scanning the area so she could place her surroundings. Despite himself, he found the gesture amusing.

When her eyes registered him, she jumped. In her shock, she completely disregarded the golden pile on top of and around her head. Her cheeks were flushed.

“What—What are you doing here?”

He schooled his features and took a breath. _Focus._

As he prepared to report, he froze, recalling what threatened them. Another Yiga attack. It’d only been two days.

_This will upset her._

He steeled himself, but guilt made him hesitate.

Her brows furrowed, and all embarrassment left her face. Her shoulders settled into the steady confidence of a ruler.

“Something’s wrong. What is it?”

Guilt and hesitation both disappeared as they fell into their established roles. Somewhere, he was grateful to her. He drew a breath.

“I believe the Yiga have tracked us, and may be planning an attack.”

Something flashed in her eyes, but it was too brief for him to place.

“And what leads you to this conclusion?”

He relayed the overheard conversation in Gerudo Town as well as the events outside the tent. She took a breath as she considered. When she looked back up at him, her gaze was steady.

“We should stay alert, and make a stop at the stable for our horses. I know you probably planned on avoiding high-traffic areas, but it seems there’s no longer a point to that.”

He nodded, and turned to leave.

“Link.”

He looked at her in surprise.

Her face was expressionless, but amusement colored her voice.

“When all this settles, I’d be curious to hear how you made it into Gerudo Town.”

Link let a slight smile touch his face before nodding and exiting the tent.

-

Zelda was quiet as they rode away. It unnerved him.

He knew he should say something to distract her from their pursuers, but he struggled to find an appropriate start to the conversation. Other people usually did that part.

He paused. Or maybe he shouldn’t. If they were being followed, it might be wiser to focus on their surroundings.

But he saw nothing abnormal. It was the kind of quiet, uneventful travel day they usually encountered. They were riding along some lesser-known roads, so they never crossed other travelers. Bugs floated peacefully in the sky. Even the animals stayed relatively calm as they passed. If it hadn’t been for Zelda’s silence, he never would’ve guessed their actual circumstances. He looked over at her, and when he saw the dead stillness in her face, he made a decision.

He took some time to consider his course of action, before coughing to get her attention.

She turned to look at him, and he gestured at the scrolls sticking out of her pack.

“So why are we headed to Death Mountain?”

She covered her surprise well. “Oh, just something for my research.”

She brightened as her thoughts changed course, but she held back her typical flow of information. He nodded, and gestured for her to continue.

The air around her seemed to buzz with repressed enthusiasm. “Wait, you really want to hear about it?”

He smiled, and nodded.

Her smile lit up her face, and she scrambled inside her pack for an old map. They were riding slowly, so it wasn’t terribly difficult to read. His curiosity rose as he eyed the old parchment.

“You know something about the research I was doing before, right? The problem with guardian control and my idea about the prophecy being unfulfilled?”

He nodded.

“Good. So these markings,” she gestured to a particular symbol which was found in multiple regions of the map, “all refer to smaller structures which look to be distributed regionally. But on each one, there’s an opening where a Sheikah Slate could fit.”

His eyebrows rose, and when she looked over to gauge his reaction, she smiled, and turned back to the map.

“So here’s the interesting part. Purah’s started excavating this one, near Hyrule Castle, and she’s found that it extends deep into the earth. So it’s possible that these constructions could be part of the overall picture we’re investigating. Unfortunately, none of the ones Purah’s surveyed have activated when a Sheikah Slate is placed on them.”

She shook her head, wrapped up in the mystery.

“It’s a frail hope, but we’ve speculated that maybe there’s some central structure which would communicate with the others when activated.” She shrugged.

“Our only basis for that comes from how the guardians reacted when they were excavated. None of them woke until we stumbled upon the right guardian. Then all of them activated.”

The investigation made sense to him, but the destination did not. The marks were all over Hyrule. He shot her a questioning look.

Her brow furrowed, and she scanned his face for a moment. It was the same face she used on the old text. He held back an amused smile.

“Death Mountain?”

He nodded, and she seemed pleased that she’d interpreted correctly.

“Well, Purah’s investigated all but a few of them. This one in Faron, the structure on the Great Plateau, and this one, near Death Mountain. We could go to the others, but getting up to the Plateau would be an ordeal, and I’d also like to check up with Daruk and Vah Rhudania.”

He nodded. Their mission made sense, and he’d enjoy seeing Daruk again.

Her gaze grew distant as her mind wandered. “It’s strange. We’ve uncovered so much, but it feels as if we’re constantly missing the thing that connects it all. This time, we’re onto something. I know it. If we keep working at this pace, I think we’ll find something truly tangible by the time the Calamity hits.”

Her tone was firm, and her eyes and posture confident. Looking at her, he couldn’t help but mirror her energy. Maybe their ancestors _had_ left more for them to find. If she could uncover it, that could make the difference.

She turned back to him, and her eyes grew big with wonder as she took in his expression. “You really think this is valuable, don’t you? My research?”

He looked at her incredulously. _People don’t?_

She laughed. It rang in the mountain air. He felt warmth flare in his chest, and the little piece of him that still clung to his role surrendered. He could afford to relax his guard another day. Pleasure filled him at the thought, and he refused to overthink it. He took a moment to breathe in the day.

“You weren’t planning on stopping at Hyrule Castle, were you?”

He turned to look at her. She seemed hesitant.

He shook his head. He hadn’t been—he’d taken Urbosa’s advice seriously, and until he was sure the King was informed about the possible infiltration he had no desire to ride with Zelda into a viper’s nest. But it wasn’t really his decision. He looked at her questioningly.

She took an unsteady breath, and turned toward the road. “I just thought you might want to inform my father about our follower. But I—I wanted to wait to see him again. So I could have something substantive to show him.”

Her gaze was somehow both determined and fragile, and Link wondered at it. There was a story there he didn’t know. But he nodded. It was hers to tell, not his to ask.

They continued on the road until nightfall, and Zelda discussed the local flora as well as her adjustments to Vah Naboris. It wasn’t terribly different from their usual interactions, except Zelda actually seemed interested in his responses. Her dedicated analysis of them created a newer sort of pressure, but surprisingly, it didn’t feel bad. It felt… healthy. And he found he was willing to be uncomfortable on occasion, because it often led her to reciprocate. He’d thought he knew her mind before, but the more he learned about her, the more he realized he was just scratching the surface.

He felt a flash of guilt at how distracted he became, but he decided this was part of the job too. Getting to know Zelda would not only help both of them feel more at ease, it could be the key to saving her life down the line. At least that’s what he told himself. It seemed to justify the little things that stuck out to him now, like how her eyes would flick to his face just before a monologue, or the way she’d bite her lip when the Sheikah Slate was acting up. He noticed how she’d ride her horse a little harder when she was anxious, and how her face would soften at the sight of an herb.

“What do you think about when you drift off like that?”

He turned to her, a little surprised at the question.

She had a soft smile on her face, and her gaze was fond even as she faked annoyance.

“You may have the ability to magically discern people’s thoughts, but I’m afraid I do not share it.”

Unwittingly he smirked a little.

_She doesn’t know she mumbles._

Her head cocked to the side slightly, and before she could ask about his expression, he did his best to answer the question.

“Why do you like botany?”

Her mouth fell open. She tried to answer a few times before curiosity fired in her eyes.

“Is that what you were thinking about that whole time?”

Something about the way she asked made him want to freeze, but as his heart beat faster, he realized there was excitement there too. He rubbed the back of his head a little anxiously, and nodded.

She sat back in her saddle. Emotions flit across her face, and he interrupted their progression before the air grew too thick.

“It’s just… It seems different for you than some of your other interests.”

She nodded. “It is. There are several reasons, actually…” Her brow furrowed as she thought, then she looked back to him, amusement flashing green in her eyes.

“It could take a while, though. Are you sure you want to know?”

He chuckled once, then nodded.

She smiled, then her gaze grew distant and the furrow returned. “Well I think it started with my mother. She was sick during those later couple of years, and people were constantly mentioning it. They discussed disease and medicine frequently, and obviously I had questions.”

He almost smirked. “Obviously.”

She gave him a mock glare before continuing. “So the interest spiraled from there, but after a little while of wandering in the woods and the gardens, I just… I felt a connection to them.” The strange tenderness filled her face.

“Almost like I can feel the life in them. I used to think…” Pain flashed in her eyes, but apathy moved in before she could’ve had time to feel it.

“When I was younger I used to think it was a sign of my power appearing. But we know the truth of _that_ theory.”

Her shoulders wilted, and her gaze darkened, her mind wandering somewhere he knew couldn’t be pleasant. Or helpful. His brow furrowed, wondering at how someone so capable could fall so deeply into self-ridicule.

But before he could think of a response, her hand shot to her mouth. She looked at him, her eyes wide.

“I forgot to pray this morning.”

She became frantic, shoving her hands into her hair, and looked at the sky. She turned to him.

“It’s nearly night. Do you think we could stop?”

He nodded, and as they started to make camp, he helped set up her tent first so she could pray. He saw her shudder for a moment. Then she set her jaw and walked inside.

He sighed, and pushed his conflicted feelings away. It was something she had to do.

Now for what he had to do. His mind firmed as he resumed his duties. He’d set up the tent so its back sat against a hill. He’d eaten. Now he needed to feign sleep, and wait.

-

He’d left the campfire in front of the tent, hoping the shadows would give the assassin away, and focused on maintaining deep, even breathing.

It paid off.

There, to the side of the Princess’s tent, he saw the Yiga traveler raise his sickle, readying to cut a hole in the canvas.

His hand settled on the hilt of his sword, and before the assassin could move any further, he jumped up, pulling it from the ground with him. He came in hard with a slash aimed at the Yiga’s side, but he turned to meet it, managing to catch the strike in the curve of his blade and fling it aside.

The Yiga was quick, and attacked into the empty space. Link barely avoided it, hopping to the side. He came at the warrior again, but the strike was deftly parried.

He was good, Link realized. He needed to be cautious. He parried the blows while focusing on the assassin’s movements, trying to get a feel for his rhythm.

Then, when the sickle came hurtling toward his shoulder, he leaped at just the right time, catching the Yiga in an overextension.

The fight only lasted a couple seconds, and Zelda burst out of her tent just as Link dispatched the warrior.

She stared at the body, and he held still, expecting to see shock or disgust flash in her eyes. But her face was blank. He waited.

She stared for a long while, but before he could grow concerned, he heard her mutter under her breath.

“This is unacceptable.”

She promptly about-faced and strode into her tent. Link didn’t have a chance to be confused. She returned immediately, her chin high and eyes flashing, a small scimitar in her hand. His mouth nearly dropped.

_Where did she get that?_

She was barely containing herself, and he could feel the fury radiate off her. The force of it surprised him, and he found he couldn’t look away.

“I know what you’ll think, and you needn’t worry. I find you to be perfectly capable in your position, and I hope you’ll believe me when I say that this isn’t a ploy to replace or remove you. But my ignorance in this area has gone on for far too long.”

She gritted her teeth, and he held still, waiting for her to continue.

“Every ruler I know has had some combat instruction. But mine was denied me under the assumption that I would depend on another until the day my powers awoke.” She closed her eyes against some unseen blow, and then she opened them, the blue-green fire in her gaze boring into him.

“I’m done with waiting, and I’m done placing _my_ well-being solely on your shoulders. You’re qualified, and you’re beside me daily. I ask that you teach me some of what you know.”

It wasn’t a question. But that didn’t bother him. He nodded.

She nodded back, and she seemed to come back to herself. Her eyes still blazed, but her posture relaxed. She looked at the body.

“Thank you.”

He nodded.

_Of course._

She smiled slightly, then looked down at her blade, and chuckled.

“I suppose tomorrow will be soon enough to start. No need to lose _all_ our sleep.” She shot him a friendly look.

_Goodnight._

He smiled back, and she reentered her tent.

The air still felt electric. He took a breath to steady himself, and disposed of the body before settling on his pallet. As he drifted into sleep, the reality of their agreement struck him.

_I’m going to instruct the Princess of Hyrule._

While he wasn’t personally acquainted with the relationship between tutors and nobility, he was fairly certain that it differed from the dynamic between princess and bodyguard.

He grimaced. It seemed he’d found another role to juggle in their increasingly complicated partnership.

He took a breath, and pushed the anxiety away, choosing to save it for the morning.


	17. Training

Prayer wasn’t fruitful that morning. Zelda didn’t care. She could hardly sit still.

She paced in front of the campfire as Link went through his normal preparations.

At normal speed.

She tried not to let her agitation turn into frustration with him. She mostly succeeded.

He was quiet. That wasn’t new, but he seemed more pensive than normal. It intrigued her, as her own emotional state was firmly in the opposite position. She was a ball of nervous energy. She couldn’t differentiate anxiety from excitement anymore and she stopped trying, choosing to fidget and walk and wring her hands instead.

He finally finished eating. He sighed, and looked up at her. She froze, every inch of her body intent on waiting.

Her nervousness seemed to relax him, as he let out an amused chuckle. He stood, and hesitated, the way he always did before speaking. She fought her hands to keep them steady.

“Can I see your weapon, Princess?”

She pulled it from her belt, a little confused at the courtesy that still lingered in his voice.

He took it, and considered the sharp edge, his gaze thoughtful.

“Maybe we could use a stick to start?”

His brow furrowed, but he didn’t correct her.

She frowned. His insecurity was confusing. She’d thought they’d moved past this—avoiding and talking past each other. It wasn’t like he hadn’t spoken firmly to her before. Her eyes narrowed as she considered him.

He removed some of the wrappings on his forearm, winding them around the edge of the blade. It wouldn’t be enough to affect the blade’s weight, but it would avoid serious injury. He handed it back to her.

“The stick was a good thought, Princess. I’m sorry to—”

He stopped when she held up her hand. She released it, and sighed.

“Link, this will go awfully slowly if you spend half the lesson dancing around my feelings. You can be honest with me. I’m not _that_ prideful. In fact, I’d appreciate it if you were more direct. It’ll make things simpler.”

He hesitated for a moment, as if something weighed on him, but he nodded, and his gaze firmed. She felt her excitement return, and she couldn’t keep a smile from her lips.

“Each weapon has a unique balance you’ll have to get used to. So you should practice with the one you’ll fight with.”

She nodded.

He gestured to her scimitar. “How do you think you should use that?”

She looked at it. It was small, but its curved edge seemed built for slashing. She mimicked some of the movements she’d seen Link make.

He tilted his head. “Not a bad guess. But that’s not a sword. You can’t rely on reach or force, so injuring your opponent’s core would be difficult.” He opened his hand for the scimitar. She gave it to him.

“Basic knife fighting is more about disarming your opponent. Here, try to attack me with a vertical strike.”

She brought her hand down, and he predictably stepped back, but he let the knife slide along her forearm as he did. She looked at the motion, fascinated.

“It’s all about anatomy. Cutting there would sever the muscle in your forearm, and likely cause you to drop whatever weapon you were holding.”

She considered. “So would I just focus on the arms, then? Or are there other vulnerable areas I could deal with?

He nodded. “There are plenty, but precision is key, since the more muscle groups you try to sever, the more force it’ll take to execute.” He gestured to her forearm.

“Mind if I show you for a second?”

She rolled her eyes, and he chuckled, taking her arm in between his hands and flipping it over. He ran a finger lightly down it, and she startled, trying to ignore the line of nerves he woke behind him.

“That’s the muscle that controls your grip. If you cut there, you can finish an average opponent in just a few more moves. Now try to find it on me.”

He held his arm out to her, but as she tried to turn it over, he shook his head.

“You’ll have to find it from underneath in an actual fight, so get used to that now.”

She nodded, and closed her eyes, imagining the line he’d indicated on her own arm. Then she flipped the image, moved it over… she ran her finger down her guess.

His lips folded for a moment, and he nodded. He took a breath.

“Now find that with your knife.”

When she had the spot memorized, he had her try and catch it, slowly, while he mimed an attack. She eventually mastered that, and he started to teach her a specific progression, designed as a response to a particular attack. He was strict about where her knife landed, and kept them moving slowly so she could build muscle memory.

As she progressed, she became immensely satisfied with her choice of weapon. Somehow, the fluid, quick motion, and precise execution felt like the perfect fit for her. And she liked that the technique required she memorize anatomy. She’d always been interested, but had never taken the time to learn the subject before now.

She had no idea how long they practiced, but by the end, she had a three-step takedown in response to a right-hand vertical strike, and she could execute it at average speed.

As they finished their last bout with the cut just above the knee, he stood and smiled at her.

He nodded his approval. “We’ll use that as a part of a daily warm-up, and I can teach you another progression the next time. As you move faster, make sure you’re settling into that side-to-side motion. That’s important for more complicated maneuvers.”

She nodded, and then yawned. She stretched, and was surprised at the strain in her arms and sides.

He noticed her grimace, and his blue gaze lit with amusement when he caught the source.

Then he _smirked_ at her.

It was small, flickering across his face, but her jaw dropped. She’d only been mildly surprised with his confident, clear instruction earlier—he’d used that tone when Akkala was attacked—but the smirk… that was mindboggling. As he moved away to drink water, she found herself wondering if this was how he’d been before drawing the sword.

But to her surprise, she realized that, while the difference in demeanor was striking, both still felt like him, as if, rather than cracking a façade, she’d simply discovered a new dimension to who he was. She found herself smiling softly as she joined him.

He seemed refreshed and alive, and she marveled at his easy smile and the open energy in his blue gaze. Then something hit him, and he pushed his hair back from his forehead.

“There was one more thing I wanted to talk about with you.”

She gestured for him to continue, her mouth full.

“You talked about maintaining a level head in combat. There are some exercises I could show you for that.”

Her heart lifted, and she nodded enthusiastically.

He smiled. “Great. It should help you react more naturally too.”

Her brow furrowed, and she frantically gulped at the water in her mouth so she could respond.

“What do you mean by _that?_ ”

He waved his hand, as if it wasn’t important. “You just tend to overthink, and that can slow your response time. These help with that, too.”

She froze. She thought a lot. She knew that. But surely…

_Well, maybe_ he _doesn’t think_ enough.

She shook her head at herself.

_I told him to be honest._

As he watched her think, he seemed to regret the comment, and she watched him retreat into courtesy.

“Sorry Princess, I didn’t mean—”

She interrupted him, realizing that she didn’t want him to back off. Not at all.

“No no no. It’s fine, really. I know what you meant. It caught me a little off-guard, but… I like it. I like the honesty. I don’t get a lot of that at the castle.”

She hesitated. She wanted to say more, but she wasn’t sure it would be appropriate. Then she looked at him, his blue eyes locked onto her, and decided she didn’t care.

“I know there’s a particular way you think you should address me, and that’s fine in public, but I’d rather… I’d rather if you just spoke to me. Like you would anyone else. At least when we’re out here.”

He opened his mouth a couple times. His brow furrowed, and she saw that weight in his eyes again. She restrained herself from asking about it. Then his gaze firmed, and he nodded.

“I can try.”

She smiled.

It was enough for now.


End file.
